I want to resist. To fight.
The world around me seems to be erupting in flames. Burning. Burning with hatred and fear. Burning with passion and resilience. Burning.
Every day I watch the fire touch every aspect of my life, of humanity. And deep within me I feel the fire catch. A passion for humanity; a visceral need for humanity. And I don’t know how to channel it.
By appearances I am not the one being targeted. But I am. If only because at the very least, if one of us is is targeted, we all are.
And I feel so helpless. So small. So insignificant. In facing the wall of flames, what am I?
It breaks my heart that it has taken such a raging, burning fire before we started one of our own to control the burn. That I don’t know how to fight back. That I am not stronger, smarter, more powerful in this world.
But I take the words of advice I was given: “write” and I run with them. Because what else am I to do?
I might not know what to say, but I must say it.
And I must remind myself: from fire comes growth. And with growth there is hope. Hope for a better tomorrow. Hope for unity. Hope for humanity.
And I breathe.
One breath at a time as I move forward.