Brey Willows

Card 3, Writing Down the Bones: “I’m looking at…”

This morning, I’m looking at a world I don’t recognize. I’m looking at a world that was supposed to be moving forward, if slowly. I’m looking at a world headed for disaster on so many levels it’s hard to focus on just one.

I’m looking at a world where a young transman was horrifically murdered and the news isn’t nearly reporting on it like they should be. I’m looking at a world full of misinformation gobbled up by people eager to be misfed, who then go on to feed it to others. Like poison. Like a disease. Like a pandemic that will leave death in its wake.

I’m looking at a world that scares me. A world talked about in so many books and movies we really should have seen it coming. The Machine Stops, 1984, The Handmaid’s Tale. Terminator. We’ve been warned. And yet we race toward those destructive versions of our world like we’re ready for Death to gather us to his bosom, to hug and hold us as it all ends in a firestorm because kids in their twenties were given nuclear code access.

I’m looking at a world where kindness still exists.

I’m looking at a world where protests are beginning to build and people are once again taking to the streets. I’m looking at a world where a police officer will stop traffic to get a family of ducks across the street and a fisherman will jump into the water to cut a net away from a whale. Where a man puts his own safety at risk to talk someone off a bridge. I’m looking at news about the development of foldable emergency shelters and global pollution down for the first time in decades.

I’m looking at my community, who are scared and angry and wondering what to do. And I’m looking at them coming together, gathering, talking, sharing, supporting. Planning. I’m looking at people who will not only fight in their own ways, but who will hold out their hands to help the next person up the ladder as we try to find our place, again, in the world.

I’m looking at you and wondering if you’ll stand beside me, or if I’ll be looking at you from across the divide.