We, who see teenagers cry in silence before us, remember there are warriors among us.
. . . .
We will never have an ideal world any more than earthquakes will stop and tsunamis lie to rest. Every atom moves, every thought flutters in and out of variations, everything recycles. You just cannot get rid of things. Action=reaction. Entropy=atrophy. It’s a bloody miracle, and to think you can put your hand on the steering wheel is a profound delusion, . . .
. . . and a common delusion in the face of what is real, what is beyond our control, like a cosmos that doesn’t even bother to sneer at us.
Yet we make claims. Just trying to figure it out has value. Religions, theories, intuitions, a piercing of the heart when we see a particularly astonishing sunset.
We get credit for this attempt. It is, after all, how we learned about atoms and that you cannot get rid of things. So we will keep trying.
That Overarching Principle that included us in its manifestations, like a footnote in the history of forever, must have a tender place in it. We, the fools, the strivers. We, who err over and over. We, who kill each other in vindication, or mere anger, or bad wiring in our brains. We, who cannot figure our way out of the paper bags we label “truth” and wrapped around our clan or our gang.
We, who can meld in sadness. We, who long for love, for home, who know intuitively we are not quite placed in the right place. We, who remember the Overarching Principle and want to call it by pet names like God, or Allah, or Yahweh, who demean it by pet names, who cannot accept that it is beyond names, and words, and our mind to know.
We, who see teenagers cry in silence before us, remember there are warriors among us. We, who start to see what is good, what is bad, and where to go and how badly we have failed to care for our planet and everyone in this footnote that is ours.
We, whose atoms never stop moving and whose thoughts never stop fluttering, but who know there are warriors rising among us, and we cry, too.
Beyond words we cry, and we rise, following warriors.
I feel your words in my gut.
“We, who see teenagers cry in silence before us,
remember there are warriors
among us…”
Courageous, extraordinarily wondrous,
they are those we must
now trust…
A+…
Thank you as always. Your writing and thoughts shine.
Are we fools though really? Or, perhaps more akin to disappointed cogs as the rest of the cosmos, tossed about trying to make meaning, as you write about so eloquently. But fools? I find that indictment one that makes me wonder.
Yes. We may have a new breed of warriors? Perhaps? Perhaps? We do need hope.
Wearily we rise and follow.
Yes, there are warriors among us and more and more people are following them, some with visible tears.
Gratitude for your writing, Patricia, beautifully said.