A Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Sixty

I am wondering what I must do to get beyond my current situation, as I have said before, but it feels to be a rather different question now.  In large part, it is driven by a recognition that things in this nation and around the world are in a precarious and unpredictable condition, and trusting the possibility of things that might happen in the future seems foolish.  As well, I am also aware that, for me, the thing I am capable of doing, the form of resistance that I am best suited for, is through my writing, and their is an urgency to that right at this moment.  I feel a pressure building and am terrified of what is to come, but I think what scares me more is the sense that I am not able to at least use the skills I have spent my life building to stand up when it seems to matter most.  I don't know how to take the necessary steps, but I cannot wait around for things to grow darker without doing something, and the only path I know for myself that would feel like I was genuinely taking real action and not just pretending is to do so as a poet and an artist, with that work itself.

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