Out of Stock

A sad realization I’ve come to,
that I don’t have enough light,
bandwidth, kindness, forgiveness
in me to atone on behalf of others
for hate they spew, venom they spread,
vile deeds they commit, lies they disseminate,
innocents they slay.

In all my daily encounters, I challenge myself to leave
the other person uplifted, amused or complimented:
the barista for taking my order, for getting it right,
the Lucky checker, for her smile, the librarian, for finding my
requested book, for her curiosity and interest about it,
the Kaiser station registrar for efficiently checking me in,
the nurse for preparing me to see the doctor,
my friend for having lunch with me at a favorite place.

And then the harassment comes at me, labeling me
with libelous accusations because of my origins,
my beliefs, my ethnicity, my religion, my people.
It comes at students in school and universities,
randomly, without an iota of compassion or empathy.
It comes at places of worship, not only with chants,
but with guns and fire. It even lands in cemeteries.
I’m accused of atrocities never committed, threatened
with death because I exist.

Where do I go to get replenished? To stock up
on hope, resilience, strength?
There aren’t enough of these on the shelves
to address the barrage of hurt aimed at us.
And the manager puts up the sign reading:
OUT OF STOCK.