This existence with all that it is. The barbed wire fences built and then destroyed. The tribes we nurture and then employ. I am surrounded by family. The ones who mean the most to me. My partner and my progeny. All of this is for them. All the doors I kick in and defend. All the materials gathered. The precious few we reach out to and befriend. And what does it mean when this is all gone? All of civilization ripped from our empty hands. As we lie naked in the debris to begin again. Thankful to have each other.
I see the strength in our human bond. I see the social in our animal. As we lick each others wounds. Our reptilian brain’s fight or flight. Our bodies perfectly built for speed. Our hips built to carry the offspring we breed. I feel the warmth of your body piled on top of me. Your heartbeat’s heat we so need. Safe from the storm outside we breathe. Sleeping in cycles, aware of the predators we once did eat.
Each day we struggle to find water, food and heat. To plant crops to grow. Pray to the heavens so the rain will no longer glow. And what do we know? What did we learn? The power to split the atom. The power to make rockets and bombs. Where did collateral damage come from? Did we learn patience? Did we learn compromise? Did we learn to live with others outside our tribes? What short passages of wisdom will we pass down to know? What stone tablets will we we forge to show?
Will the religions of peace and love rise again? Will they be renamed and re-branded once again? Will the world be flat once again? And what will be the message that we will send? I sit here in my cave with you. No more digital box to view. I remember the home we once knew. Our children feral and wild, now they run free. No more plastic products to purchase and worship. No more treats to use to blackmail them to eat. For our priorities have been put in place. What matters now is that we are here, now, in this space. Content to be alive, together, the human race.
Painting by artist Kirsty Whiten. View more of Kirsty’s work here.