When the world is burning, I seize up and go inward. I don’t speak soon. I get quiet. I watch.
When the world is burning, I seize up and go inward. I don’t speak soon. I get quiet. I watch. I read the words of outrage and heart break and confusion and reflex. I wonder why assault rifles are a thing. I think of the gay clubs I’ve danced in, laughing in the safety of music and friends. I think of how safe I always feel. How easy it is to die. How easy it is to kill. I am not a protestor, a shouter. I am not a fighter. I would die quickly in a war. I would watch my killer with a steady gaze and ask him why. He wouldn’t answer me. . I am glad the white-blood cells of humanity spring forth like grass after the first rain. The way human beings support each other after tragedy is a reminder of how dominant goodness is. How unusual cruelty. I’ve been in the mountains. I’ve watched the river. It’s high right now and has knocked down trees. Those trees are dead. Why? Because of a million tiny drops of rain that never knew the tree added up and tore down the bank. The dreams of the tree are gone. The unthinking water is rushing. The world is too big for me. The hurt of some people, the things that happen to hurt people’s minds that turn them cold and deadly. The accruing of darkness. The kindness we could’ve shown, earlier. The world is too big for me. . : @samueljamesmuso (at Rocky Mountain National Park) -- source link