Lined With Silver

No...We will not miss the skin crawling sense of uncertainty and fear. Not the opportunity given to for once partake in ills of the World beyond our shores, exacerbated by inaction of those we entrusted our livelihoods to.

Not the first time they have failed us, but their fatal downfalls have come home. Priorities of their hearts unfaithful to promises they made, have thousands of our body bags grow in piles by the minute... Here, on our thresholds.

We will not miss the poison oozing from every corner in conquest as we barely keep our feet high enough to escape; not the battered force of nature, cracked and wounded shaking us to wake and shift paradigm. Beautiful Mother is angered, clinging by the strength of her fingernails to survive so she can continue to feed and behold us.

But we may, if so lucky to see the end of this season, miss all the silent nights and dawns so sacred, we could hear ourselves think and breathe in their sway.

We may miss the end rope of desperation threading an acceptance that there is no grip to be held... And those moments of peace revealing all the creases in the sky as we wondered - how many shades of gray are there in a rainy day?

We may seek to recreate the time we held on just a little longer with nowhere to be and nothing to achieve. It can’t be but a dream where we did so little yet accomplished everything.