A Small Fist of Resistance

Sometimes all we have
is a small fist of resistance,
lifted to offer our own stubborn joy,
our own sacred work,
our own determined hope up
into a sea of chaos & noise,
held up in defiance to an avalanche of apathy & greed,
refusing to capitulate to cynicism or surrender to despair.
We light our candles & offer our prayers.
We call the circle & cast our spells.
We summon our spirits back to center.
We keep weaving the web of magic with all we have to give,
holding up our own small flames, so others might spot them
across the dark & choppy waters & wave back,
here, too,
to witness & to wonder, to marvel & to maintain,
to open our hands in welcome,
reaching out to one another across miles & mountains
with the affirmation & acknowledgment: I am here.
Presence is our power & persistence,
the magic that will not dim
as long as some of us are willing to shine.

Molly Remer of Brigid Grove

This post is part of Goddess 101 Texts – telling another side of Our Story.
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