March 30, 2020
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This is the art of drawing breath Of making visible what has been invisible This is a pragmatist’s guide to faith This is singing when you don’t know how to pray Welcome to this space Know that you are not welcome here We are all trespassers. We are not welcome here This universe would like nothing
more than for you to not exist And the proof is in the history you live Tell me this, what are the odds That this planet would appear in just the right place With the right atmosphere and geology What are the odds that life would suddenly spark in the darkness from
the carcass of this planet to a colony? What are the odds that this anomaly would spread? What are the odds it would survive? And stay ahead of volcanic eruptions, meteorites, and earthquakes That first drum, first beat, first rhythm, first break First time the notes broke to form a system You could hear the first melody
the first multi-celled organism What are the odds this first environment
to harbor life would meet another Maybe fight or maybe harmonize
but either way it would evolve So what are the odds it would evolve
to walk and not crawl To fly and not fall To survive every single mass extinction What are the odds of your existence? How many generations did it take to make you? How many plagues, wars, and massacres conspired To uproot your family tree and salt the earth around it How many ancestors carried your fire? How many farmers made it through that famine? How many runaway slaves got away? How many soldiers conscripted deserted? How many times did that chain almost break? How did your grandparents meet? What was the song playing when you were conceived? Is it inconceivable the happenstance
inherent in this life you have inherited? See Some see the elegant complexity of bodies Or the natural beauty of the planet
and they say it’s godly There’s got to be divine intelligence behind it all Because the odds that you Would make it on your own Are so small But me? I see millennia trying to murder you I see a thousand generations of pain and fear I see struggle inscribed into your skeleton
and I see you still here Ancestor armor Starcrossed survivor An unwelcome guest in a hostile environment Defiance is your birthright Fire from the first time you drew breath The smile on your face
Welcome to this space Know that you are not welcome in We are all trespassers. We are not welcome here. So if our drawing breath is blasphemy, sin, or treason Let’s keep drawing breath until
there’s nothing left to breathe in We are the codes that our ancestors still speak in

Jean Kelley

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