I suppose
every dying civilization
needs people like us:
People who weep
at roadkill.
People who cannot stop
shouting the truth
through our snot and bitter blood
though the Drivers
blindfold and gag us,
and kick
our bellies.
People who can see
‘round the corners of structures
others can’t yet imagine
and miles down roads
they haven’t yet found.
People who dance songs
through the twitching death throes
of expired “culture”
though its Kapo goons
try to cage us
in shrouds.
People who find conversation
between two unwashed, unhoused beards
more informative
than anything the cleanshaven pundits
recite.
People who are unduped and undazzled
by the pretend genius
and invisible robes
of the latest technogarchs.
People who prefer
the violet-magenta
of a mundane sunset
to anything Meta or insta.
People who speak Raven,
Panther, and Twilight.
Who find home
in pine smoke,
wet leaves, and sagebrush.
I suppose
every dying civilization
needs people like us
to preserve
what is good, beautiful, and true.
Who guard a sturdy Foundation
for when it is time to re-member
and build.
© S. Rinderle, January 2025
Image: “The Great Awakening” [Collage]. Doug Van Houten
