Perhaps Every Moment Of Time Lived In

Each Time I Write, Each Time The Authentic Words Break Through, I Am Changed. The Older Order That I Was Collapses And Dies. I Lose Control. I Do Not Know Exactly What Words Will Appear On The Page. I Follow Language. I Follow The Sound Of The Words, And I Am Surprised And Transformed By What I Record.

Every Important Social Movement Reconfigures The World In The Imagination. What Was Obscure Comes Forward, Lies Are Revealed, Memory Shaken, New Delineations Drawn Over The Old Maps: It Is From This New Way Of Seeing The Present That Hope Emerges For The Future...let Us Begin To Imagine The Worlds We Would Like To Inhabit, The Long Lives We Will Share, And The Many Futures In Our Hands.

Far More Frightening Than The Thought Of Dying Was The Experience Of Erasure Already Occurring In My Life. My Fear Of Becoming Someone Who Did Not Count.

Perhaps Every Moment Of Time Lived In Human Consciousness Remains In The Air Around Us.

It Is A Grief Over The Fate Of The Earth That Contains Within It A Joyful Hope, That We Might Reclaim This Earth.