Here's the piece's ending: "This country made a promise to me once–and the promise I made back to it, before I got so sour, is that I would care about others. That every life mattered to me, that making peace mattered, that standing up for the persecuted was not only my duty but also my absolute privilege. And, in particular, that I would not turn away from my responsibility in mourning. Blessed are those who mourn: they haven’t forgotten how irreplaceable every single life is. Blessed are the merciful, and those who are poor and hungry for fucking righteousness. Up up and away, motherfuckers, time to fly."
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