instead of picturing the terror that is our potential future as citizens of the United States,
instead of talking in circles about the election and what we’re going to do,
instead of tallying up all the rights we’re losing every day and forecasting the rights we may lose,
take a moment to give yourself some fantasy.
what if we all got out together? all of us.
we move to a different country and start our own little community,
we grow food for each others’ families,
and raise our kids in our own community how people used to, with aunties and uncles sharing in teaching them how to live,
we write poetry together and paint with each other
and while two of us chase the escaped chickens back to their coup, the others fall over with belly laughs deep enough to heal old wounds, placing palms on shaking foreheads as poultry outsmarts us for a moment,
and on a cool summer evening we watch with tears in our eyes as two become one, regardless of gender, sighing with relief as they kiss under a harvest moon because they’re free to show the purity of their love,
we build a long banquet table and break bread together once or twice or seven times a week, sharing our thorns and roses with one another, enjoying good wine as someone picks up their guitar to add another layer of cozy to the fire of our community, bellies full with appreciation for what we have,
we mourn with those who are in mourning, and celebrate with those who are celebrating,
and when the snow comes we race to shovel each others walkways to make the dead of winter a little bit lighter,
we bake bread together
we walk the land together
and when the sunset is too good to miss, we knock urgently on each others doors beckoning that it not go unnoticed, knowing none of us would want to lose the opportunity to watch the sun write her own poetry on our horizon,
we grow flowers for the pollinators
and mushrooms for our minds
and herbs for our bodies
and we treat every animal’s sacrifice as sacred,
we hold hands with our friends because we love them
and bring soup when someone is sick
we meet each other for a homemade coffee just to nourish each others souls and hold space,
and we welcome each wrinkle, more laugh-lines than furrowed brows, having thoroughly enjoyed the company of our friends until each hair loses its color and our backs hunch with age,
we let each other pass into the great unknown in the comfort of our creation, holding soft, crevasse laden hands as life breaths out its last, then send back to the earth that which was always hers,
we return borrowed carbon to the dirt in the forest at the edge of our land, planting a tree of remembrance to honor each of our completed cycles so that our children and their children can honor the memory of us,
we breath.
don’t get me wrong, discussing the scary possibilities and what we can do to try and prevent them is important,
but should you find yourself drowning in the misery of it, choked with the thickness of despair,
I hope you read these words and find relief.
what if instead of focusing on how we’re going to survive,
we plan for how we’re going to thrive?
what if that’s how the world changes?