I felt the pain before I was fully awake. I tried to will thought from my mind and failed. I dragged out of bed and headed to work. All day my anger was raw. I felt like I had swallowed broken glass. By day's end, I didn't think I could bear anymore. But I had one more stop to make.

I joined others who were walking into church, shoulders hunched, eyes dark with fatigue and disappointment.

The pastor began speaking low, comforting words. She talked about courage, hard work, dedication, respect, social justice. We were asked to sing. Sing? Now? Haltingly, voices hoarse, we croaked out, "Love will guide us through the hard night."

She spoke about the healing power of community, of love, of being in solidarity. And then, one by one, we spoke. About our pain, our anger, our disappointment, our fear. Tears and rage poured out. We had worked so hard. We spoke truth to power.

Could we have knocked on one more door, shaken one more hand, written one more letter? And finally, how can they not understand? Love is love. And love is good.

Grief began to lighten. Voices grew stronger. Thoughts changed from despair and moved toward determination. Determination fired will power. And energy. This isn't the end.

This time when we sang, we rocked the church.

We will fight again. And, if necessary, again. And again. You can't give up on civil rights. Or social justice. You just can't.

Maggie Ricker

Chelsea