Historic years do not always bring out the best in humanity. Sometimes, they feel like history for all the wrong reasons, like 2016.
It was not a year of good manners, so little reverence for life on either side of the chasm that divides this country and increasingly, the world.
Last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
Standing on the abyss that is 2017 we are uncertain, but let’s not waste these early days. Let’s not settle for the façade of fear, its smoke and mirrors.
As Tennyson reminds, “hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come.” Our sliver of light.
No darkness is complete without it.