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Living Ectoplasm

April 25, 2015

Last night I was a luminous being

marching for the extinct like me, once

deemed a terminated “race.” We danced, humans,

joyous for life itself. Lit from within,

our exotic talking protoplasm swayed to ancient

drumbeats. We forgot our divisions, embracing

the fragile. All of existence stood still so

that all would exist. The living procession

under paper and sticks, waving itself back

into tribe. I felt alive. Under stars and starfish

and the Great Blue Heron like the one I friended

who was my size, who sat beside me, mourning,

on the bank, close enough for an arm around.

Four eyes gazing into a mucky river at salmon still

determined to spawn. Still we breed. We love and

grow. I, the almost extinct of our species, lay down

my arms. The sheep and cattle replaced by white

rhinos and pandas. I bear the loss in this rebirth,

this living global consciousness, and weep

for us all. I wept for joy, for us — for All!

 

For the Procession of the Species going on now and the Luminarias pre-procession event last night.

 

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