Precipice

The world is very heavy.
Just the air weighs a thousand pounds.
Children are hungry.
Children are dying.
The witch hunt has begun once again.
As it always does.

As. It. Always. Does.

Go ahead. Come for us.
We’re here. We’re tired, but we’re angrier than you could possibly fathom.
And that makes us dangerous.
That makes us desperate.
That makes us strong.
As it always does.

As. It. Always. Does.
Remember – god is a woman.

I sat tonight, dipping onion kulcha into raita
Savoring my sense of smell which is coming back.
Lucky.
And I thought about consolations.

We must get some kind of prize for living through this
Yes?
And maybe.
Just maybe.
It’s the art.

The art that was at the front line when everything went to hell.

75 years from now.
People will study us.
They will shake their heads
same
as we did
at those who came before
But they’ll look at the response.
At the fight
At the words
And realize that we are the rebels
That we didn’t sit back.
When it mattered most.

The art will prevail.
As it always does.

As. It, Always does.