it is time
If you've exhausted your charity to the doomsday hawkers. If you've tired of
flipping the channels of fear-mongering and poorly rendered stories hinging on hearsay.
If you've had enough of towing the line of shock and awe, of polite indignation,
of folding your napkin at the corners to keep the spills from staining your lap.
If whatever has frenzied your attention has worn you thin, naked and needy and
malnourished of hope and unmothered by those who'd wooed your allegiance
with promises of safety and good fortune. It is time, now, to make the most difficult
of mutinies, to surrender every tacit agreement you've ever made to those who told you
how to hold our knife, with the blade pointing in. It is time to open your hands,
and show your blood, and refuse to ever be hurt like this again.