How Lucky Are We Still

How lucky are we still, to live in a world that regenerates in the form of beautifully terrifying destruction; to make room to breathe again, for trees to grow and skies to clear, for rivers to run and wild beasts to roam where they belong.

For the pulse of a heightened frequency to radiate through the atmosphere as if it were blocked before.

This is not to say that suffering isn’t abundant; the pain will go away when it’s done teaching us, I hear. And still, what price are we willing to pay? Innocent lives lost to an invisible enemy, families torn apart.

We wonder, how can the devil thrive in his destruction and chaos? Why hasn’t he repented? I wonder, why we don’t pray for him more?

To alleviate pain, there is only one answer; to sit with what is causing it. To ask “why?”

To radiate love from all directions, to slow down, to pause and drink in the stillness and discomfort that often comes from sitting with oneself. To dissect our emotions, to be kind to strangers, to be intentional with loved ones, and honest in the ways in which we walk this earth, to say thank you out loud and often.

To relish in the good fortune of plenitude, and focus on the dichotomy of inequitable distribution that has been broadened and perpetuated by prejudice, to speak for those who don’t have a voice or whose voices have been silenced, and to shout at injustice and quiet the scared voice inside your mind.

How lucky are we still, to live in a world where the daylilies will bloom and the cherry blossoms will orchestrate a spring like we’ve never seen before.

A spring that marks a time-shifted in humanity, the hierarchy of our society, rearranged, our existence referred to now as “before” and “after”.

How lucky are we still to smell roses, and put our hands in soil, and kiss the earth. Perhaps we will see the stars more clearly, now. Perhaps we will see one another more clearly, now.

We must raise our children to care deeply, to love beyond borders, to be gentle with the earth and one another, to look terror in the face and whisper, “Never again.”

How lucky are we still, to live in a world that defines resilience through love, time and time again.

Time and time again, an orchestra of resurrection, a symphony of revolution, and the music will play, play, play on.

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I collect Joker cards Read more articles from Hannah on Thought Catalog.

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