#19: Baby, You Gotta Hold On

The summoning of the simplest breath from the lungs and holding it just a little longer than normal. It is the quietest space where the heart pounds –harder still. Then a loon howls for you.

Do others yo-yo between existential danger and lightning bugs? Or tiger lilies? Or mammatus rainclouds? I see the shimmer in a toothless, almost one-year-old and I sink my nose in their sweaty cheek and think “I want nothing more.”

My neighbor across the cemetery tells me about her smoke bush. The 9-foot budding giant that looks like a sea urchin against the sky and the next day my rights are taken away. I wish I didn’t know about “bad touch”. The money that’s spent to cover those up. The artificial poison they’re shooting out of their mouths and cocks. The only way to win is to take. So I will from them. I will stash and gather, save and trade, spend every dollar on a piece of artwork a college student made from their old baby clothing. This, just so as not to line any pockets except my other hungry constituents.

If I die giving birth to a new hope someday, know that I did not die without trying.

A friend talked about unschooling for her children. I would love to do the same. Unschool myself, be rid of the concepts stuck to my flesh. What sage works best with the hidden tattoos life has branded upon you? A big picture, right-brained, illogical, slow reader, reactive sentimentalist, who runs from hard. I’m tired, aren’t you? Categorization of everyone. Fuck it all. FUCK IT ALL. Stash and gather, save and trade, line the pockets of every person you come in contact with. Tell them they are everything other then what they’ve been told they are to someone else. We’ll cry together, eat a nourishing meal, drink Sekahnjebin, and say goodbye to whatever peg you were screwed into. Burn it down.

What happens when you mix earth and fire? Rage and hope.