I depend on books like these, too, Michele. The task does seem daunting, there is so much work ahead. But one step at a time, it’s possible.

There is a bridge we might have crossed,
but we’ve run out of days,
and now the span’s a total loss,
fallen and ablaze,
wrecked by care gone madness,
felled by dim dark rage;
no pity, now, nor sadness,
for we have torn the page
where dialogue could yet be found
between black, brown and white;
now there is no common ground,
it’s just “You’re wrong, I’m right!”
The work of good folk down the years
falls, the flames undoused by tears.