calloused, nettled, strong.

This morning I was a large squirrel, searching for hazels under the trees, breaking a few with my teeth and gathering more to keep. Tonight I have infected splinters that I am trying to charcuterie-out, my usual dirty nails, some outrage in my heart and, stubbornly perhaps, some ambitious hope for us humans to finally sing, dance and eat together, to listen—to ourselves and others—let go of our fears and transform our pain into learning.
We may yet decide to heal what NoViolet Bulawayo calls “our bruised humanity” in the beautiful Declaration of Unity you too may choose to sign today, “because you are not free until all of us are free.”

… The call is a prayer to the human in each one of us; all our names make it holy. The call is a song that will save us. The call is a balm to heal our bruised humanity.  The call is truth’s mirror; it dares us to look into our hearts. The call is a bridge over borders that never belonged to the earth to begin with. The call is light to swallow the darkness we’ve been fighting against so we can finally sit in bright justice…
And we won’t stop calling until our voices rearrange the world into a place that looks like home, we will call. From far from deep from near from up from down from under, we will call. From home from exile from everywhere, we will call. From knocking on doors, from street protests, from marching for justice, we will call…

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