It is lonely here sometimes, living at the end

Day 227

photo by Wilson Alvarez

Family is a sacred thing,

made up of small hands,

and scratchy beards,

squeezing hugs,

and warm, sun-soaked moments.

Fierce love.

And the near constant breathless terror

that loss is just around the corner,

lurking in the shadows.

Because we are fragile.

Bones, and muscles, and blood, and skin, and brain,

carefully stitched together.

Strong, but not strong enough,

in the face of speeding cars, and drunk drivers, and deadly viruses, and steep stairs, and cancer cells, and random accidents.

It’s a wonder we can eat, and sleep, and cry, and laugh, and run, and work, and love,

act normal, go about our days,

when we know these gifts

can be so fleeting.

I want to wrap my small family

in bubbles of protection,

make magic spells for safety,

that shimmer,

and shine in the light.

I’d sell my own soul to the devil

a thousand times

if it meant I’d keep them safe.

Our bodies are so small.

And this mad world is just so, so big.

The flip side of love

IS

loss.

The thing we are all so scared of. The monster that haunts our dreams. The clawed beast that makes us run for cover, build walls, retreat, frightened, inside of ourselves.

But I think it is true, that it is better to open our hearts in love, and risk loss,

than to never allow ourselves to open at all.

Because we are better that way. Softer, more gentle, more human, more animal.

And it applies to our sweet earth too.

That even as we lose her

bit by bit

we love her

more and more

in ways we could never have imagined before.

It’s ok to feel sad about this,

the mighty dying we are faced with now,

the suicides, the genocides,

the ecocide,

the collapse.

Hold your heart

tenderly with both hands

like the broken thing it is.

Gather together with others who understand.

It is lonely here

sometimes,

living

at the end.

Hold Fast.

Thank you for listening,

I love you,

Natasha

photo by Wilson Alvarez