there are days and there are days and some days go on and on, turning into weeks and months and years. how long does a season of thorns last? how many piercings, murderous stabbings can a heart bear? and then why does it hurt so to say … ‘no … i will take your abuse no more’ … why, in the season of coming together and slow healing does evil plunge its knife so deep? where ever is rest? what happened to spring?