God, it feels like mourning.
Like we are all lamenting
a new lost love,
the death of a King,
the decimation of our homeworld.

I’ve been here so long now.
Seen so many fresh young faces
walk these red-trimmed halls
looking for a place to write
and they found a place to live.

They wandered here by chance.
Their eyes bright, like glass,
welcomed into the fold
like brothers in arms,
words no longer weapons, but hope.

At first, perhaps, they would keep to themselves
or tentatively comment and write,
far away from the right to vote,
deeply unwilling to go rocking the boat
until it became clear that this is not a democracy…

…but a community.
We have to stay strong, as one, they sing.
For all the people who suffer in silence.
Their words sprouted fantasies
and melodies and new planets.

They came together, wrapped and divided by fear
and made fear a weapon
for waging war on imagination
and bending it to their will.
Together, they became.
We have to rebuild this invisible bridge
of consciousness.