I don’t know what to write tonight.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to sort out my feelings.
There are no words to tell you how it feels to see my small son smile and point to dark birds in the white sky,
or to describe the way the light sparkles in my nephew’s eyes,
Or the way my heart still beats hard as I watch my husband sleeping,
even after all these years.
I guess I’m not young anymore,
but I’m not old either.
Sometimes I feel extremely tired, like I have no energy for this.
Sometimes, I wish I didn’t know the things I know,
that I could turn back the clock,
un-read the things I’ve read,
un-see the things I’ve seen,
un-feel the things I’ve felt.
I wish I could re-wind back to a time when I didn’t know
that animals are sold for their fur,
and women are sold for their sex,
and trees are sold for their wood,
and life is turned into death,
chewed up and spit out inside a machine that only lives to make money,
that only wants us to be sad, sick slaves,
shackled and chained,
and kept in the dark.
But then I think,
no, I’m happy for the things I know,
for the sharp pain I carry in my broken heart.
It means I’m alive. It means I haven’t given up yet.
It means I’m in love with this beautiful world,
the mountains, and the rivers, and the plains, and the meadows, and the deserts, and the plants, and the animals, and the trees.
I am overcome.
I hold my hands to the place in my chest,
and I say to myself,
I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
I love you.
I hope I am listening.
I think that I am.
Thank YOU for listening,