One of the things I’m most afraid of, watching all the screeching and shrieking over petty politics, along with true horror, is that I’ll forget that redemption is possible.
We look at all the people committing violent acts over political differences… and compare them to the murder of Jamal Khashoggi. And we see them as having the same value. We would rather advocate violent resistance to our political opponents – not our political enemies, but those fools who have the audacity to simply not be members of whatever Party we prefer – than slow down, and think, and remember that we’re all human, we all bleed, we all die the same way and with the same horror and fear.
I recently rerecorded “Hope,” a song I wrote a long time ago – probably during Bill Clinton’s presidency – and I simply cannot help but hear my own words in my head:
When the supplicants of power Start to sing a new song They've got the words right But the tune is all wrong They've got all the phrases They've got what it takes They look like the lamb With the heart of the snake I'm tired of hoping past the edge of hope For a world that needs no redemption Tired of pushing more than I can For the clean edge of justice Tired of closing my eyes, closing my heart Not seeing calamity before me Tired of trying to be innocent And so I hate We look around and see destruction Caused within and caused without We might survive distortion But truth is killed by doubt Our lives are only messages Written large upon our souls What we rescind, receive, acknowledge Is what the future is told