What good are my thoughts and prayers,
when the children were shot while praying?
My empathetic heartbreak, my sending good vibes, my words spoken or unspoken,
when they were bombed while their heads were bowed?
My learning, my teaching, my shouting from the roof tops,
when they died with G-d's name on their nutrient deprived lips?
My holding space for, consoling, and rage filled grief,
when news of the next preventable tragedy is already breaking?
When the sin is not that the devil took up arms in the mind of an individual,
but our collective inaction, without malice, stumbling into utter negligence,
witnessing each tragedy unfolding, and doing nothing,
when the creator has given us all the ability, tools and reason...
and we can't be bothered to raise a finger.
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