With human limitation.
It's simply impossible to be or do everything I want to, make everyone happy, fix everyone's hurt. I can hardly bandage my own wounds. And I find it increasingly difficult to be the person I want to be...on a moral level.
I claim to be a social warrior, as I'm sure you are as well, dear reader.
But often times the front lines take a toll on you.
Poverty...despair...sickness...regret...rear their ugly heads at us...the hopeful ones.
We must lift our chin and stare them in the eyes without fear and with the knowledge that if we try, if we care to enter the fire, it's better than running.
One heart is stronger than none, and all of our hearts...banded together...can do remarkable things.
We will win this battle.
On Freedom's Ground
by Richard Wilbur
Praise to this land for our power to change it,
To confess our misdoings, to mend what we can,
To learn what we mean and to make it the law,
To become what we said we were going to be.
Praise to our peoples, who came as strangers,
Who more and more have been shaped into one
Like a great statue brought over in pieces,
Its hammered copper bolted together,
Anchored by rods in the continent's rock,
With a core of iron, and a torch atop it.
Praise to this land that its most oppressed
Have marched in peace from the dark of the past
To speak in our time, and in Washington's shadow,
Their invincible hope to be free at last.
