Remember, Remember the fourth of the Lie

July was a wonderful month! Volunteered with City Repair’s Branch Crew building faerie portals in the woods for Pickathon Festival. Crafted on some embroidery, skated around town, started reading some good books and kinnected with my witchy sisters creating elderberry syrup and gleaning from the abundance of fruit trees through out the city.

Below is my latest poem I wrote on July 4th, thinking about the crazy idea that we celebrate war, our capitalist society and the new age culture vultures…

Settler traditions & pie.

Remember, remember the fourth of the lie.

The one saying all people are free.

But not in this debt slave economy.

Remove the gaze from our navels.

Remove the working class labels.

Release the fear of missing out.

Release, let go, scream & shout.

At the system that profits at our expence.

At the system that resembles a chain link fence.

Fast, easy, ugly & cheap.

Built to isolate the brainwashed sheep.

Bowing to private ownership and freedom to abuse.

Making it seem like we are able to choose.

A life of beauty or sad direction.

The illusion of freedom of expression.

Most disoriented from overwhelming suppression.

Working for poverty & missing (kin)nection.

We all want to feel like we belong.

So some travel, give aid & sing the song.

Of community togetherness and happily ever after.

And some sit depressed awaiting the rapture.

Some gnaw down festival baloney.

Giving energy to shows capitalizing on ceremony.

Consuming experiences & jet setting the globe.

Name dropping & adding to their spiritual wardrobe.

Living like a transient sucking energy out.

Of homes & communities feeding patriarchal clout.

The revolution does not happen from being cool.

Gaining followers, money or getting programmed at school.

The revolution begins when we no longer longer roam.

When we find a place to call our home.

A place that makes us feel alive.

A place that let’s community thrive.

A place where we gather & take action.

A place where we can gain real traction.

On taking down the colonial grid.

& Lifting the revolutionary lid.

Shifting individual ideals.

To community & neighborhood meals.

Getting our hands dirty & planting food.

Celebrating life & shifting the mood.

To sharing abundance all around.

Empowering each other & honoring the ground.

Beneath our feet we root to rise.

No longer believing the fourth of the lies. 

 

xo

Sarah B

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