By Lauren Drummond
“Love is going to fuck you up.” The ominous words rang out from a woman standing on the street corner. Pointing at me, the woman declared, “You are going to have to die before you can love anybody here.” I knew she was right.
On Monday, August 18, our friends The Peace Poets, a collective of artists that celebrate, examine and advocate for life through music and poetry, announced to their community that they had decided to divert from their current tour schedule to join the struggle for justice in Ferguson in the wake of the fatal police shooting of teenager
I have not slept for days. Last night I stood again at the front lines of a mass protest in Ferguson, Missouri. We were marching peacefully, calling for justice in the wake of the killing of Michael Brown last week.
I’m writing this from Konstanz, Germany.
One hundred years ago this month, at the outbreak of World War I, German Lutheran Friedrich Siegmund-Schultze and English Quaker Henry Hodgkin shook hands and pledged a fellowship of interfaith pacifism.
They urged their governments to withdraw from war, to disarm their militaries, and to work toward international reconciliation.
The black-and-white beans danced around the screen. The heartbeats thundered through the speakers. My wife and I could not believe our eyes. We knew exactly what they were: twins.