I came to the school garden today to meditate. No work, no real harvesting, just sit and reflect. Birds overhead. The pollinators doing their thing. The occasional plane flying overhead.

My spirit hurts as I sit and reflect on the state of amerikka. White men murdering innocent citizens on the street. Racist. Racism. White supremacy. The “law” of the land. The putrid roots of amerikkas foundation.

She flaps around as a snake with her head cut off. Jacob Blake. Say his name. Say THEIR name. Until the bitter taste of centuries of blood spilled in the name of “liberty & just-us for all” forces you to spit out your well worn privilege.

Turn your cameras on! Film the demise. Trama porn. Turn your cameras on, I need to take attendance. How do I know you’re here? Cameras on! How do I know it’s all real? Turn your cameras on! This is america, don’t catch me slipping now.

The fire rages inside my belly. My privilege unscathed by my rage. The birds chirp overhead, murder in the streets. The pollinators doing their thing, murder in the streets. Their is murder in the streets.

Guess I should end this thread with a butterfly pic.