I must stop calling this year a ‘shitshow’. Every day so far, I have woken up. Every day I got to my feet, even when it was tough. So many times, I looked in the mirror and could not believe my luck. It was me. There I was. Still here. Still up with the sun. Still remembering to breathe;
in and out and so on.
…
It’s not about who has it the worst,
but who has the tools to wield against the system, the ache, the lack of support, the curdling disappointment, the dread, the Dread, anxious, sleepless nights, loss of control, the new responsibilities, the rut, the Rut, the winning one thing and losing five, the weather, the Bloody Weather, our crying earth &
all the worries about food, children, war, Art, the Far Right,
the Far Left, the rats (oof.)
porn, depression,
the news, the news, people in your team who don’t act like your team, the queries and weird complaints
….
the darkening dream, the dream that diseased, the dream that colours the day like mud in a clear lake (and yes), the thirst, the dehydration of it all, the great habits you broke, the pressure of conventionality weighing down on you like a childhood hymn
that won’t stop coming back
….
the people who hate you or like you too much
the way people treat women / the way people talk about People Like You,
the way people wear their oppression spread against their chests like medallions
the way they invite you to wear it
(and yet.) How dangerous is the perspective that we’re ripening,
…
that things are getting better,
that knowledge has filtered through
and the cells in your body know what to do?
That some of the bad stuff left you today,
and more will leave you tomorrow?
…
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