In the End

During The Fall,

In the end of it all

I will be tending my

Garden,

I will be

Baking and breaking bread

And quietly

Watching the cities

Burn

While I seek to learn

The skills our ancestors

Earned to survive,

I will thrive on

Holding my loved ones

Close, cooking for them over

The fires someone else

Started, while I

(openhearted)

Tell myself that

I have already

Been

Through

Hell:

In my self-imposed

Crises, in my

Closed-off walls

My solitude,

The absence of

Love,

Because as long as I

Have them,

As long as I

Know we're

Together

In the end

We'll find a way

Through;

I'm finally not alone

And I

Could fly

If they asked me to, I could

move mountains

For them

If I needed to.

My hands are

In the dirt, and

(even though it hurts)

We move

Forward;

We bury the seeds

Our children will need

To grow,

We'll sow, and slow,

Take a moment to

Listen,

Remember that

We are human–

And maybe

We can remind them

That they are,

Too.

There is this web of

Connection,

And it deserves our

Protection:

we all feel

It (whether we know or

do not)

It gets plucked and

Pulled and it rolls,

Vibrates us in response.

And we tend to

Forget, especially when

We pit “Us”

Against “Them,”

But we're all here

In this together

To weather this storm

Of fear.

Maybe we'll aspire

To plant

Something higher

Upon the ashes

And brittle bones

Of empire.