Invisible

For three months we sat indoors, forgetting what it was to be human, to be within six feet of each other, what it was to breathe beyond ourselves. And suddenly the world reminded itself to us again, the state of things, that it was not enough to stay home and be silent because aren’t people still losing their breath over a twenty? Cautious, we flew down the hill to Brooklyn, wedged our bodies into the wave, and we joined the current.

This week I have despaired. Wondered why we bother to carry on at all, when everything we thought we could rely on crumbles around us. A little emperor sits inside his fortress and yells insults at the world from his gilded cage. The point is this: when they go low we must go loud; when they remove hope the right thing is to hope harder. I’m so tired, so tired of hoping, so tired of believing it all will be made right.

But what choice do you have? The children are already here, and they’ll be asking for answers.

Wouldn’t you rather tell them you tried?