If you had to leave tonight would you be ready?
If the lights went out, and the heat turned off, and the cars stopped in the streets,
If the world as you know it ceased to
Would you be ready?
What would you take?
To carry on your back under the cover of darkness?
Baby pictures, keepsakes, old letters, your favorite book?
Sardines, olive oil, a cooking pot, water?
Where would you go?
To your mother’s house, your best friend, the corner store, the woods?
Could you find food?
Aside from the supermarkets with their shiny plastic lined aisles,
where would you look?
Under logs, beside streams, in forests, in fields?
Would you dig roots?
Burdock, dandelion, spring beauty, the starchy corms of grasses?
Could you kill?
Animals fast and strong, and small and wily,
with flanks heaving, eyes flashing in the dim light.
Would you know how to end their suffering, where to cut, how to aim,
to make death come quick, and humane?
Would you make a bow, a spear, a trap a net?
Do you know how?
Could you make a shelter
warm and dry,
with twigs, and sticks, and mud, and bark?
Watertight? Able to contain heat,
a fire, your family. yourself?
What about fire?
Could you start it from scratch? Do you know the woods, soft enough to dent with a fingernail, hard enough to withstand the pressure of spindle on hearth, spinning, spinning, spinning.
Learn the skills of survival.
The way to live here,
Pack your bags, prepare.
Not because the world is ending.
you want to live like it already has.
We don’t have to wait for collapse,
to walk away.
We don’t have to wait for collapse
Wildness is waiting.
Go to her.
Thank you for listening.