Lynn Breedlove

Dear all my trans and queer and nonbinary children and women and creatures and those who love us,

Let's be guided out of this darkness. In this moment crying. In this moment sure. Laughing fucking eating the food of our mothers' countries. Channeling full moons and dead moms and live dads and their grounded forward-going, get-outta-jail-free, avoid-jail-entirely, make-it-happen magic and glamor-money-fashion-shine-charm-build-it action. True love always.  

Let us channel all the stars all the ghosts of Sophie Scholl, The White Rose, Von Stauffenberg, Anne Frank and Marlene. All the nameless who gave a crust of bread to someone who wasn't gonna live anyway. All the planets seeming to go backwards but aren't, who show us how to save energy 'till late in the game and then slingshot it through the eye of despots, blow everything sky high at once, take out killers with high powered books and Subcultural Standards of Beauty good looks. And if we're lucky just keep reloading, picking off evil. Keep them in our sites, crosshairs the only cross we pray to or bear.

Bring Mandelas, Mumias, Panthers and Kings, bring Peltiers and Black Elks and Lame Deers. Bring Maya Angelou all aglow and how she says, bring your ancestors with you to the room, and what will be read is power. Charisma.

Leave behind a trail of stars to X marks the spot, to treasure, to hearts, to explosions of light, to true love coming in your fist, to high as a kite in your arms, to crying over the loss of all humans, all the queers and trans and women and children and art and beasts and sky and water last but not least, all the blue sky from the west down to the east, blue being just how we see it from here. Blow up this rock and it’s a dream remembered by sentries at heavenly castles who look out at black starry skies and tell stories of what we learned there, then, on a green and blue rock, far away and once upon a time. But when it goes, if we are blessed to be here at its going, a moment as portentous as its Big Bang, just another marker in an eternal ebb ‘n’ flow swirl, wherein energy is never destroyed only transformed, say the scientists, so we know it's true, especially high priests Sagan, Einstein and Hawking, then let us honor that going with a look, an homage. So that the world knows how much we love her, so much so, that we gave her the constant light of our attention, with all our hearts.

In punk ethics always,

Lynn Breedlove