my intentions are good

but the earth is on fire

and parts of me are running away

from the smoke billow

the way my skin looks burning

i am of a collective dying

praying for rebirth

 

i say yes to each task

but the stovetop sea boils

– do you hear the whales singing panic

as the ocean rages into new storm

the balance tilts into chaos?

all the normalcy agitates me

my pretense is broken

 

i set reasonable goals

as the news missiles towards me

nonsensical, hyperbolic, overwhelming

forever monday morning

amongst a people ignoring red flags

addicted to self-destruction

with a smile and a handshake

 

i set out, valiant

today will be a good day!

but the end of human history

is strewn in the road

and i tremor existential again

feeling so small, so tired

were we ever miraculous?

 

i get quiet

i listen for the labor of transition

here you are, here we are

we are not alone

we are the million doulas of awakening

spirit deep in this era

of delusion

 

we remember that grief is love

that our calling is not production but intervention

not performance, but deepest presence

and every birth is a ritual of precipice

so we bear down, and we wail

and once more

we push