power, pt. i

I used to wonder if she realized, every time we celebrated midsummer, just how powerful she was on that day. She was the sun and the summer, warmth and heat, and I was the winter and the moon and the night. On those longest days when we were young, while I languored in the shade, too lethargic to do anything but watch, as she laughed and danced and lived, I'd wonder if she knew she could reach out and break the world right then if she wanted to. And on that shortest night of the year, when she was spent and the moonlight and the cool ocean breeze stirred me back to something resembling life, when she tried not to fall asleep as we watched the stars and the dancing flames, I would ever find myself wondering how long we could wax and wane in opposition to each other like this.

(You're wondering if I could have done the same when the days were short and the nights seemed endless, but the sun scorches, the moon soothes. My power was different. I don't believe she ever saw it, back then.)

The years passed, our dance continued, and eventually she stopped celebrating the solstice. We had other things on our minds, and a little celebration, even of her favorite time of year, seemed frivolous. But even as the sun and the heat sapped me of energy, sometimes I would still feel her tapping into that power, just for a little bit. Perhaps she couldn't help it.

When we finally parted ways, when I grew weary of the blazing sun, I could still feel her when the days stretched on forever. Lost, seeking, and then, finally, on midsummer years hence, I felt the moment when she reached out and broke the world. And--because our dance was always more than the two of us, because this, I think, was always fated--on that day the sun went into eclipse, as the moon for the briefest of moments blocked out the sun's scorching rays.

For that moment I could tap into her power. For that moment I could heal what she had broken--not everything, but enough. And I wondered if she knew, if she was also thinking of all those times she fell asleep leaning against my shoulder.

I don't know if she could have fought, but she didn't. And I would never know if it is because she did not have the will, or she did not have the power.

a prelude for june (scenes from an apocalypse, cont'd)

June has arrived in Seattle (and presumably in other places, as well). The locals have been known to call this month Juneuary, because it's a month characterized mostly by cloud cover and drizzle. (It's also much warmer than January, but by now we're used to the warmth and the nice weather and the absence of sunlight feels like a betrayal.)

Just when it felt like the pandemic was going to wear on for a changeless eternity, a police officer in Minneapolis murdered a black man by kneeling on his neck until he was dead, while his comrades watched and while the people of the city cried for him to stop. This has sparked a protest movement bigger than I have ever seen, with protests happening in all fifty states and internationally, with police reacting with excessive violence across the country (as they reliably do). This is what it looks like when a people feel that they have nothing left to lose, when the yoke finally is too much. When a society so utterly fails to take care of its people that the only option left to them is to take to the streets, this is what happens.

This month's theme is power. It's always been a fixation of mine in my stories: those who have power, those who have none. The common saying is that power corrupts; an alternative version says that power reveals. That is: if I were to give you unlimited power right now, with no possibility of being held accountable, what would you do with it? "Power corrupts" takes the view that no matter who you are, you would do something awful with it; "power reveals" believes that if you do something awful with your power, it is an indication that you were very likely awful to begin with. Of course, power also self-selects. You don't simply get handed power in our society; you must seek it out, and those who seek power seem to be inclined towards being less than stellar examples of humanity. Whether this is a relic of our society or of human nature is unclear.

I hope everyone is staying safe out there. I hope that we are able to remove power from the police who are abusing it, and that something new and wonderful rises up to replace them. We are standing at a crisis point, and I hope that the people are realizing exactly how powerful they are.