Wild Writing 2/100

Is this how the honey bees feel?

When they keep buzzing around in good faith, flower to delicate flowers,

Rolling their bodies in the golden cast of pollen,

bringing home the nectar

only to find it’s tainted with chemicals that make them weak, then sick, then dead?

Is this how the polar bears feel, swimming and swimming until their heavy, wet fur begins to drag them down,

until the freezing grip of the ice capped ocean needles its way in

not knowing where the land went, but swimming until they can’t swim anymore.

Is this what the poor woman feels when she finds herself pregnant and unable to bring forth another life into hers which has become

as strangling as hell itself?

When she is turned away, turned down for the medical attention she seeks while also being told to get a job

and stop fucking around.

Her actual job just gave her a raise, a whole dollar over minimum wage,

and still no health insurance for her or the two young boys she keeps clothed and fed and loved despite all of it.

Every shitty penny and meal and circumstance.

Is it enough to know we’re going through this together?

That it’s collective trauma? WORLD trauma?

And that maybe, finally, we can say and see we’re all in this together?

No.

No, it is not enough.

But, it’s something.

Prompt is my own. I am creating a timed piece of wild writing every day for 100 days for this year’s 100 Day Project.