There are days when the world seems fractured in multiple directions at once—violence and sickness, the vulnerable exposed to forces beyond their control, the ordinary spaces we gather rendered suddenly unsafe. The book of Lamentations was written by those who had lost everything and found themselves sitting in ash, yet it does not counsel denial or false comfort. Instead, it speaks the unspeakable first, holds nothing back, and only then—having named the full measure of loss—turns toward something like hope. That pivot is not automatic or cheap; it comes from the work of remembrance itself, from refusing to look away. Today may be a day to do that hard work: to see clearly what is happening, to sit with the weight of it, and in doing so, to find the ground beneath our feet.