I’m struggling today with the execution of Alex Pretti, an execution carried out in plain sight and recorded, and yet, again, we are told to deny our own eyes.

I come to David Whyte’s poem “The Well of Grief” for solace, and these words of Albert Camus: In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.

We can’t look away and we need to trust even more deeply what we see and feel.  I understand the term “bleeding heart”.  My heart bleeds.