That Iron & Wine song lyric and album title keeps coming to me as I brood over Ukraine.

Not surprising that I feel and interpret the Russian onslaught through other people’s music and poetry, since none of my own words seem up to the task.

Words like: unbelievable, and yet so predictable.

Infuriating. Heartbreaking. Confusing.

Feelings like: Hope. Despair. Inspiration. Disgust.

Up. Down.

Repeat.

Especially when, at this so-called unprecedented moment of global solidarity and unified support for democracy and freedom, the U.S. won’t condemn Saudi Arabia’s recent execution of 81 people because it’s trying to get Saudi officials to increase oil supply to ease gas prices. Apparently, many of those executed were arrested for “participating in human rights demonstrations and many were denied access to a lawyer, held incommunicado and tortured,” and the Saudi government is trying use Jamal Khashoggi’s state sanctioned murder as bargaining chip, pressuring the U.S. to scrap a lawsuit “in exchange for increasing oil production.”

Then there’s the unabashed racism inherent in media coverage of Ukrainian refugees as somehow different from Syrians, Afghans, Iraqis, Hondurans, Salvadorans, Guatemalans…You will have seen and heard of these, but, you know, in case you need an excuse to punch a wall today:

[Ukraine] “isn’t a place, with all due respect, like Iraq or Afghanistan, that has seen conflict raging for decades. This is a relatively civilized, relatively European – I have to choose those words carefully, too – city, one where you wouldn’t expect that, or hope that it’s going to happen”.

“It’s very emotional for me because I see European people with blue eyes and blond hair … being killed every day.”

“We’re not talking here about Syrians fleeing the bombing of the Syrian regime backed by Putin. We’re talking about Europeans leaving in cars that look like ours to save their lives.”

That, and the gut wrenching images of millions fleeing Ukraine, leave me feeling a little like another song lyric: “we’ll gather all our arms can carry, I have lost to February…”