Community In Crisis

Each inhale is nearing a drowning one. Each exhale feels more detached. Our community meets once every crisis. As we speak, our stories become more disjointed. We become collectively less able to collaborate. But more willing to laugh to ourselves. The more we laugh, the less we are likely to remember. As the currents that caused us all to collide… Start to dissolve, but we keep battling waves. They tell us to be quiet. But we are a collection of voices that can’t quite help it.