In Desperate Search of God's Grace

There is a great smoldering anger that the unending battle for civil rights remains a war against unrelenting uncivil wrongs. That the presidency of Barack Obama was but a mirage. That the death of Mr. Floyd was a statement of our most fundamental principle that all people are not created equal. That the less things change the more things remain immutably an integral part of the American landscape. That we as a nation are steeped in a prejudice which endures nearly 250 years after our birth just as virulent and omnipresent as it was from the first. That this disease is wholly resistant to the antidote of mercy and compassion.

 And sometimes there is a moment that serves as catalyst for a conflagration. An incident that appears to demand a huge fire in response to this country's enduring legacy of hatred. That words prove insufficient ammunition. That physical destruction is the only adequate means of expression, the only true retort to such pervasive evil. Contemplation in the moment of whether such action is, in the final analysis, appropriate seemingly fully subsumed by the belief that it is necessary.

So from sea to not so shining sea, we burn. America the not so beautiful. In desperate search of God's grace.