SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE

The jays chatter on my front lawn,

squawking over seed, as if this life
will go on forever,

and the seed will always be there.

This is hope and Carrying On
during the apocalypse.

Somewhere wildfires are burning,

animals fleeing in terrified distress.

Those fighting the flames

can hear their anguished screams.
(I hear them in my dreams.)

I walk into the forest: coolness, peace,

sunlight slanting through the branches,

everything green, green, green:

leafy breath and human sigh.

This is relief and comfort

during the apocalypse.

At the CoOp, we catch each other's glance:

we nod; we smile:
solidarity, a community caring 
for each other
during the apocalypse.

It feels like a large segment of the population

is experiencing a psychotic break, convinced

by fake news that reality is fake

and illusion is real.

"Communist news!" they jeer

at the free press, and try to suppress it
like Communists themselves.
My mind boggles

at the depth of the rabbit hole

we have fallen into.

If the Mad Hatter pours me some tea,

it will be no stranger than what

is on my tv screen.

The sandy beach stretches ahead

as it always has; the waves surge to and fro,

they ebb and flow, in their eternal dance.

This is my moment out of time,

my walking meditation, like

Thay in Plum Village:

with this step, I breathe in calmness,

with this step, I breathe out peace.

"I kiss the earth with my foot."

This is survival. This is

trust in the Big Picture, and

 - we live in hope -

in Mother Earth's ability to survive us.

This is me, trying to survive, myself,

to stay steady, to withstand. This is me,

holding onto hope,

dreaming in green

during the apocalypse.

Inspired by the amazing poem "Surviving the Apocalypse", written by 15 year old Nina Evans, a prompt for Wild Writing by Laurie Wagner