And if you remember just one thing,
Babe, remember this: there once were
Corals here. Living things in vibrant hues beneath our waters, not these
Dead husks fully slaughtered by the will of
Ego-driven billionaires chasing profit over people,
Fame over freedom to breathe, a
Globe on fire over basic fucking decency.
How, in this failed state, can I bear to share my own story? You see
I tried, I did. We tried, we really did. It’s
Just so goddamned hard to make a dent with
Kings and kingmakers chasing glory,
Leaving the rest scratching and scrabbling to have the slightest chance to
Make our world from the ashes of the old. But after the burn, what’s left?
Nobody told us we’d start with nothing but
Overheated oceans and collapsing coastlines and
Poverty-stricken people still yearning to breathe free (the not-so-huddled masses). We keep
Questioning, keep fighting, keep banding together, keep
Remembering what once was. And in this inevitable end: a blaze of glory; a whimper, not a bang; exit, pursed by bear; what is the point of
Solidarity? Of standing up for something, of standing up for anything? In the end, it’s really for one last thing:
To show them that it matters, that we matter, that this whole fucking world on fire matters.
Unity won’t stop this out-of-control freight train—we’re on track for the
Vilest ending—but the least we can do is show them that
We’re here. We’re still here. At least, of course, until we’re not.
X marks the spot: here lies Miami, here lies Venice, here lie the Maldives. There once were corals.
You would have really loved the corals. Call me a
Zealot, but don’t tell me to forget. There once was beauty here. Once, we lived.

© 2024 Jessica Peter