These days, words haven’t felt right for the taking. A tired world is a heavy weight for any tongue to carry, and lately, my lips have been stretched thin by silence. I keep trying to fit my words someplace between the beautiful and the taciturn, keep them aimed towards something needed and real. Yet they rarely end up where they’re headed, and I know it’s because I’m too afraid to set off in the first place.
Tell me: how do you feel strong enough to find language for the moment we’re living in?
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A passage from Robin Wall Kimmerer’s “Braiding Sweetgrass,” a treatise on Indigenous wisdom and environmental duty. She is a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation.
“But then the Words That Come Before All Else begin to flow, and you start to answer.”
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Maybe we can try it like this.
Tell me: what is it you need?