There is revolution in the streets
And a madman in the White House.
A pandemic/a plague
And the planet slowly burns.
You cannot close your eyes to any of it.
And yet, you must turn away.
For an hour or two.
Preferably in the morning,
Though dusk is good too.
You must stop and listen
To the words.
Not those of the podcasters and pundits,
but the the ones whispering
in the quiet morning hours.
The words that need you to speak them,
To set them down on the page.
You must resist the screen
For a while.
The beeping and flashing lights
On your phone.
Set aside fear
And give yourself some space.
Protect your writer’s mind.
Because it’s time, Dear One,
Time to do the work
That’s been calling for too long.
There will be no other, better day.
There is only this one.
Turn away now.
Close up your screen
And mute your phone.
It will all be there
When you return
Waiting for you.
Later, you will participate and protest.
You will work for the greater good.
You will vote.
And just like you have a plan
To get to the polls,
You will have one
To get to the page.
Are you ready?
