War, still.

We'd like it to be as clear as the outline of this branch and bird, the story of war.

It is not a snapshot in time. It comes in waves, the origins of which can be distant and unseen.

The thing that is clear is the destruction. Indiscrimate destruction. God weeps.

Destruction will not end as long as we are more concerned about assigning blame and meting out punishment than we are about ending violence of all kinds. Every ripple of hate contributes to the tsunamis of war.

Even if we feel we have no power against the tsunamis, each of us has the power to create a ripple of love. May we do so, and may those ripples grow and cover the earth with a mighty flood of peace.