Day 12: Dispatches from the Belly of Empire
Some days, I am so tired, I can’t find my way into a new idea for a poem. This will have to do.

Invocation
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

In the name of the raven who calls from the walnut,
and the name of the spider dreaming in the corner,
and the name of the wild child, moss and leaves
and spider dreams trailing from her antlers,
in the name of the grandmothers who were giants,
and the name of the matriarchs who taught us
the magic of the circle, the enchantment of weaving,
the infectious contagion of joyful resistance,
we call for disruption and transformation,
for truth and justice and accountability.

Hold their feet to the fires of justice.
Reflect the truth of their greed and cruelty.
Bind their names to their deeds.
May what they have stolen
return to the people.
Set the captives free.

May it be so.