This day feels unbearable. These days of war unbearable. They grate you down. They peel your skin.
This century accelerates the unbearable. To witness children and families suffering, besieged, starving, forced to migrate. The horrible litany of the times: Syria, Yemen, the Northern Triangle, Myanmar, Tigray and Ethiopia, Afghanistan, now Ukraine. Amid the Pandemic.
Bearing it is what we are left to do, no matter the expedients, the gestures to alleviate, reaching to do something, anything that might help.
I wake up thinking night after night how it feels to be in Mariupol.
My son took a day to go birding, the comfort he could find. He saw an osprey, an early migrant.