A Simple Explanation After Another Shooting
The doctors and nurses of the man
filled with a hatred so virulent
that it came out as bullets
from a gun
They tended the madman’s wounds
as they were yelled at, threatened, spat upon
because of their faith.
“What does it mean to be Jewish?”
my five-year-old asks.
I don’t know for sure,
but I answer anyways.
I think it means exactly
what those doctors and nurses did:
to care for all humans,
to speak mercifully to all humans,
to tend to those no one wants to
in their time of need
even when their confusion,
their division is directed at you.
“What does it mean to be Christian?”
the one who never stops thinking asks.
“Same,” I answer.
“Hindu same, do you think?”
“I think yes.”
“Same, I think.”
“Same same, same same,”
the 7-year-old says her phrase,
the one she says so often
when finding the similarities between us all,
the phrase I think about all of the time
in all of the horrible messes
we have to find our humanity in.