she was there every morning.
huddled in a torn blanket, leaning against the wall of the sandbox. the junglegym towered above her in the grey light. every morning, i parked across the street from her as i went to the coffeeshop. every morning, i thought to myself that i should buy her a cup of coffee and a muffin. every morning, i envisioned the way she might look at me as i handed her this gift. every morning, i had forgotton her by the time i finished ordering my vanilla latte.

i am tired of the human race.
i have had a semester's worth of apocalyptic literature, watched five hours documenting the hatred between israelis and arabs, walked home through the city peering at shadows and clenching my fists.

i've become adept at ignoring the homeless who pluck at my pantlegs.

i am tired of the human race, of our squabbling and our ignorance. i think my yearnings for soil and rain are hopes that somewhere in the womb of nature, the violence of humanity could pass me by. i want to go home because i don't remember ever feeling so discouraged there. i am afraid that i will return to a new strip mall or another gang war.

i have lost faith in my own kindness, in my ability to create and my ability to nurture. i don't want to pass them by who hold out their hands to me, i don't want to live where there are no neighbors. i don't want to be a part of this silence that stretches across everything, the numbing of minds and souls. it terrifies me, that i might lose my faith in this world, in the enduring beauty that i have always sought.

i know the answer is here; i've seen it. just last night i was giddy in the warm glow of creativity, ideas bouncing between us. just this morning i was wrapped in tenderness and gentle joy. i know we are meant for more than cement sidewalks and mutually assured destruction. i know we are more than the sum of our fears. i just don't know how to live in the world we've created.