When the ground is as water, liquid in Your hands, You walk among them. The world around — borders of sovereignty are small lines beneath Your notice as the cries of the suffering call out, in fear and in pain and in desolation. You walk among them, and there is no eye toward infringing upon Another’s space, for You are there in that moment to give what aid You can. I’ve seen You with them, the injured, the scared, the lost, the dying, the dead. I know You compassion. On two legs or on four or more than four or winged, or no legs at all, we are all of us creatures of the earth and children of this great love affair You have with the world. No suffering is too small to escape Your notice, and so I know that You hold them, my God. I know this is not punishment, I know this is not retribution, I know that we are helpless upon the backs of this earth, or, at least, I know it is not Your retribution —
But, hold them, my God. Reach out Your hand and provide them with shelter. Give them strength. Give them food. Help them live and heal and rebuild. May they see your kindness and your compassion, even if they never name it.