Driving through this thick haze – much too bright for all the darkness it contains. Tiny particles of broken lives hanging, hovering all around me. Catching in my throat. Choking. Scratching. Drawing out tears and tugging at hearts. It is too much. There is just so much. The pain, the devastation, the fear. It is hot and dry and wet and windy and muddy and cold and burning. Creeping (or blasting) into our lives in all these different forms. During our favorite song, or as we are asleep, in a sweet, perfect dream.
Oh, these days we are living. These times. Do we all know too much? Too little? Where does our power lie? Have we caused it? Ignored it? Can we still move mountains? Is possibility alive? Is all the green dying everywhere? Replaced with mud and ashes and blood and brown and gray and black. We will see it again when all the ice melts.