GETTING IT BACK: An Ode to the Resistance

Don’t forget who we were before the garish gold plated loudmouth entered the room. When HE’s here — all ham handed — we’re sure to get ornery on fear and see the sacred web strained.

But we know the way back. Remember feeling the warm embrace of your first love. That flower bloomed years before sneering financiers broke the rhythm by trading people and earth parts from far away keyboards.

Long before careless neocons lied us into lucrative wars from safe chambers, you were kissed awake by the morning sun.

Before hippies dreamed of mansions and forgot the true stones they’d turned, we basked beneath the clear night sky as the warmth of a well built campfire took us home.

All of us were together on backyard summer evenings, fireflies rising in the days before kindness was mistaken for weakness.

Before our shared dreams were kidnapped by the separateness of screens, we felt the salt from the sea, blue sky days, friends glistening like diamonds, laughing freely in the soft grass.

Remember the late afternoon light when we banded together and stood up tall for what’s real? In that moment, in those streets, we heard our own heartbeat and remembered our smile. We became one voice. Defiantly joyful. That decision to rise, that one true sound, was our effortless protection. Our steady intention kept the jokers at bay.

Remember the place the moon pulls you at night? That’s what we had. We’ve lost that. And we need it back. That is our home.

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