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Monday Morning, After the Protests
Now is the time when we must all get to the work that matters most.
It’s Monday morning, but not yet time to go to work. The sun has risen, but we have a few precious hours before we must report.
So drink your morning coffee and awaken. What happened last night?
Where I live the rain fell, and there is now a cool, morning breeze, leaves rustling, birds chirping, the din of traffic in the distance louder than it’s usually been on quarantine mornings.
We look at newspaper web sites and our social media feeds with a hint of dread, not fearing case and updated fatality numbers, but a toll of damage. Damage done to buildings, to bodies, to souls, and we wonder, who wrought this damage?
Outsiders, we are told, strategically placed here by forces we should fear. Their aim is to make us look at bad, whichever side of ‘us’ we are on. Their objective is to sow that fear, panic, distrust, again, from and of whoever we already feared and distrusted.
Whatever damage was wrought last night, and the nights before, do make us feel bad. What has become of our homes, our communities, our perceptions of ourselves?
And the elders remind us, in a voice shockingly calm in its ease and lack of surprise, as this Monday morning’s sun rises, there is…
