A version of this features in Immediate Responses.
Such indescribable head cracks in a sea of threatened violence, actual violence, early promise. Couldn’t know where to begin – the threat of established FINISH THE JOB, the pocket humans trapped in the model village with all care taken
lilt sway, we grew up with expectations from the state. Even in our world we somehow believed that it served us. I guess because in some reality sense it did. We were whelped from its clean safety. Small organisms observed at length and dealt with in the mafia sense. The level of organisation is mind blowing. The seagulls don’t know about it. Clever one climbs aboard a train, takes a ride to another town. They can’t know who built the train. To them is it a natural force, like a metal built wind? Do we behave much the same? Things work, more or less, and we use them. We seem to tend to forget the stories we are told which are too much, if we are told them at all. Our empire being built as it is on such suffering and death at a distance. Children in the DRC. Unknown children.
Digression. I would be sad and angry. It is brilliantly impossible to be sad or angry walking up the road to meet my baby in the sunshine with Pata Pata by Miriam Makeba whirling through me. I had no idea. The sun is still out and the trees are a universe of life force in each new stretching leaf. People are sad and look untrusting but are so beautiful. The last few days have. I do quake with what is coming. I am not convinced that there is anything left for us in this semblance of state and democracy. If I am honest I am not as prepared as I would like to be. I am still often a territorial creature although I have become less proud about admitting it and seem to see it more. We may have to leave, but I am not willing to stay here and leave people behind. People who need help we don’t know how to provide without a state. Worse with a state in the way. Perhaps we must learn. Besides at some point that is more or less all of us.
I won’t think about blood. Imagine if we governed ourselves for what we needed. This is full anarchy and always was, it’s just that the sometimes benevolent despots took over, like people always say they will. Their true colours show. It’s already happened and that is. I wonder where to turn next. I wonder at all the discussion and organising that is already taking place. I feel we must rely more on ourselves now and learn to look after each other. Stop fooling ourselves that they will take care of us. And I feel that we will. There is hope and it is inside us. People live. A friend of mine is in a hospice with cancer, she is only just 32. Errors. I think of her and I think of Miriam Makeba. I think of my mother. I think of love. Of the flitter flutter of moments that seem to tie into patterns out.
Cracks let light in. There is a strength in us that I may only just be beginning to tap into. A care in the flap of the wings of geese.