I try to make sense,

Of the angst I’ve been feeling,

As if there’s ONE trigger,

That’s sending me reeling.

Sometimes I try silence,

And I get really still.

My eager heart gallops,

As I breathe by my will.

Sometimes I try screaming,

Into pillows and faces.

A ricocheted anger,

Echoes in dark places.

Sometimes I roll right up,

Burritoed in linens.

Go numb for a while,

Til’ the walls stop-a-spinnin’.

I can’t help but feel,

As if something is coming.

Like we’re lost in the woods,

And the prophecy’s drumming.

Our energies, vibrant.

Revolution’s beginning.

As quiet storms gather,

A new age is grinning.

Still, the signal is weak,

Feels weird in the body.

A nondescript language,

And our vision is shoddy.

Maybe we needn’t,

Make sense of this feeling,

Or grant it a label,

While collectively reeling.

Still, “survival mode” me,

Has a few quick reminders.

So, gather round’—”listen,”

And take off your blinders…

We must stake our claim,

Should the “mighty” walls tumble.

Take care of our neighbors,

As societies crumble.

Even in darkness,

Our attention is key.

What we do truly matters.

We’re more than just “me.”

Recall your humanity,

No matter how varied.

Conditioned to hiding,

It mustn’t stay buried.

And recall that our numbers,

Do threaten their power.

Tired hearts, gallop onward.

It’s the dawn of the hour.

Lindsay Garrett – January 2026