We sit in hammocks under the trees and admire the earth that keeps us company. We listen to the breeze that dances with the water, the grass that sways in its own graceful harmony, and the birds that argue in branches above us. We listen as we let our love soak into the ground below us.

We hold so much gratitude for the bees that fly to the aid of the flowers. We adore the birds, the squirrels, and the deer, and we mourn for those that we pass as we drive to work. We are understanding of the rain, too shy to kiss the ground, too scarce to cure the world beneath it. We show patience and compassion for the bears, forced to scavenge through our trash to survive. We understand they feel scared and helpless, trying to find a home that no longer exists.

We have patience and compassion for everything that fights the adversity we created.

Everything but each other.

Yet we, too, can be selfless.

We, too, feel shy, helpless, spread too thin.

We, too, miss our home that felt so promising and safe as children.

We, too, are scared.

And just like the earth that surrounds us,

we, too, deserve compassion.

Not only the compassion that whispers its love and solidarity, but loud, angry compassion.

Compassion that commands like an avalanche; thats sheer force tears the roots out of the ground beneath it.

Compassion that demands changes.

Compassion that makes the world make sense again.