joy is our transgression

notes on revolution

adapted from photo by dennis zhang on unsplash

mourning dove

that's the mourning dove,
he points a small hand
toward low branches,
and then curls into me.

snow outside. a fire here for us.

odd times, when happiness is suspect.
quiet is privileged. have you done enough
to lay down your head?

resist a revolution
that blames those who suffer.
you deserve rest.
and ease. and comfort of every texture.

joy is our transgression.

—

kimberley, bc - march 2025