On hope and tragedy.

In a sterile white room in central Arizona, blood dropped down a bed and onto the floor.

There were simultaneous screams of woman and child.

A mother held a tiny pink body to her warm flesh and whispered “welcome to the world, the beautiful world.” A doctor cut a cord. A nervous father cried.

It was just before three AM on the east coast, the morning of June 12th, 2016.

In a colorful place with dim lights, blood dropped down arms and torsos and fell to the floor.

The whole country screamed with the mothers whose boys laid still.

A stranger held a man to his chest and begged him to not leave this world, to not close his eyes. A stranger gave blood. A stranger placed single flowers on empty windshields.

The new mother across the country cried and sang lullabies of compassion and wisdom into a tiny ear.

Evil swept through Orlando. Through screams and pain, we give birth to a resolve to let love persevere.

My beautiful nephew, born early on June 12th.

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