How amazing that from up above, Earth appears round and smooth, yet its oceans can have craters so deep they could hide the tallest mountains. How amazing that in the deepest of the deep seas, where extreme pressure would crush even steel, life is also thriving there.
How amazing that, in the night, the dark space is pulsed with light, yet some of those twinkling little stars are times larger than the sun. I am a speck of dust in a universe that continues to expand.
I needed God as a child when walking at night in a land infested with snakes. I needed God as an adult when walking in the field in an area infested with land mines. I have no power to make anyone agree with what I must say. All I can do is write, and to write is simply to point my finger to the moon. More: Suza: If King were alive, he'd have thoughts on law and immigration. Trouble is, the present moon is eclipsed by mass deportations, and I am failing to find words that can clear the darkness from the expanded raids and the loading of deportees on military planes.
I lack better words to tell the story of the little Haitian boy who became separated from his parents on their trek to the southern border. How to best describe the boy's dream of taking a splash in an imaginary swimming pool far, far, away from home? I lack better words to protest immigrant children being subjected to shame, hate, threats and ICE storms.
Words that can stop us from returning little children to nations tattered by gang violence. Words that can turn cruelty into kindness and hate into love. Words that can remind us that ours is a nation blessed not just with deep and expansive natural resources and technological marvels, but also diverse faiths, beliefs, ethnicities and cultures.
