Of What Remains

You don’t have to listen too hard to hear democracy crumbling. Or the wailing of the world’s pains, or the quiet sounds they make when rubbing up against your own hurts. When I say I want to be a part of something greater than myself, I mean it. Every day I batten down the hatches so that what remains of my optimistic inner cargo doesn’t ship off to the far-flung shores of a hardened heart. While sounds of hopelessness resound, so do songs of solidarity and redemption.

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