Somewhere you can come and hide.
I can feed your family and be a white savior.
I would like to belive no one will find you.
My attic is hidden, in a safe neighborhood, on an island in the Salish Sea.
I want to believe it is safe here for you.
But it is not.
I have spoken up too many times to be safe.
I can't trust my friends and family not to turn you in.
And I am no one's savior.
They have been to my island, they have taken my neighbors.
The best I can offer is a brave space.
A roof and a hot meal while it lasts.
I can offer my discomfort in speaking up.
I can step down so you can step up.
I can hear your voice.
I can use my voice and my vote.
I am very afraid, Anna.
For all of us.
There are too many clinging to this idea
That their comfort is a right.
Even when it is slipping away.
Closing their eyes to the world
Not looking past their nose
By the time the horrors affect them personally
It will be too late for the rest of us.
And too late for them.
I have read too many history books to be hopeful.
Yet, I am.
When I turn off the media machine and talk to my neighbors I am hopeful.
When I see others speak up I am hopeful.
When we find moments of joy and laughter
I am hopeful.
There is room for bravery and hope with the fear.
It is the only way we survive.