Of love and hate

Destruction is easy.
A tantrum.
A well-aimed word.
A lie, or a painful truth.
The lob of a grenade
or a sniper shot into the heart,
that perfect betrayal of trust.
Easy.

But building?
It is slow.
Painstaking.
Thoughtful.
A piecing together.
Persistence
even as the bombs fall.

About this poem. 

Personal and political. But only love creates lasting greatness.

Remember that.

Tom