where were you when the world turned upside down? were you hanging from one edge and I on the other? did we figure out what balance is? or if gravity is still one part science and another part hope?our guts are spilling across blank pages in between hashtags. it’s easy to slip from virtual form. transform from sedentary to pedestrian and find something new to explore. who could’ve guessed we’d all find pleasure by digging our fingers in the earth like our ancestors before us?
there are new prophecies waiting to be inhaled and archaic thought to be exhaled.
on our last breaths are one part carbon monoxide and another part prayer as bullets ricochet a viral overload; as lives of the oppressed hang and heads hang in disbelief; as change changes the makers of change; as words become action; as consequences build trust; as trust builds bridges that bind us; as the world turns we all hold on to the roots running deep in the earth.
bridges are a thing of marvel. people are always dreaming of ways to make a better bridge.
I used to know some things that bind were a good thing like how hemp fibres can be twisted into sturdy rope or like how baking bread is one part recipe and another part love. I used to love to bind things together like stitching quills to birchbark then adding colourful beads.
bind the mind, mind the bind, the mind bind, the bind mind.
Now I know some things that bind are not a good thing like how infection seeps into cells and spreads into surrounding cells or like how trauma binds to thoughts, thoughts bind to body, body binds to triggers, triggers bind to memory, memory binds to cycles, and cycles repeat. Another new thing I know is that the corona virus is like dried out burdock. We called them hitchhikers when I was a kid. Quills are also like burdock. They each have a sticky end and will latch onto your skin. It hurts.
it’s easier to remove quills and burdock from your body than it is to remove cancer or corona.
the world is upside down. I’m standing on the earth looking up at the sky then I’m upside down. somehow gravity keeps me from floating away. sometimes, I pretend I’m a dandelion just waiting to turn to fluff so that the next big gust of wind takes me across the street so I can land in between the cracks. there my body takes roots and breaks open the concrete, which cells say they are solid, but nothing in this world is solid and can easily break by just one dandelion seed breaking the surface.
resilience is woven into our dna. resilience is one part knowing and another part practice.