The Revolution (NaPoWriMo 8/30)

We will be the survivors of this:
Planning how to weather the storms of Armageddon

Tools at our disposal fueled by space:
That which we provide and the cosmos where we orbit

No longer do we need to assault:
In reality, our uprising is one of healing

We are already in agitation:
Protection in our hands; we are the gifts provided

In the midst of divine vision quests:
Shamanic ties between us and ancestral guidance

Periods become semicolons:
Stories still need to be told, for we are still at war

Now I find myself in this battle:
One which puts me on the front lines of viral ambush

I’ve got my altar to protect me:
Grapes and honey, Dionysus and Lakshmi appeased

Enriched by herbal sacraments of marijuana:
She will calm my anxiety and my depression

Masks I’ve worn no longer protect me:
They were the kind hiding all of my identities

My words have never been sanitized:
Though now the hands with which I write them are doused in Purell

But I’m not afraid to get dirty:
Paint and ink still are my weapons while we’re struggling

Revolution is upon us now:
The kind where artists have enough time for creation