Even O. Keel
Member
Twilight drapes the sky in amethyst hues,
casting long shadows that dance with light.
Leaves rustle as the wind whispers secrets,
the scent of cedar and smoke heavy in the air.
Beneath this vast expanse, we gather--
eyes lifted to stars that burn with memory.
We are echoes of those who came before,
spirits stitched to earth and sky,
each step a covenant with the past.
The soil beneath our feet holds stories--
of freedom sought and freedom stolen,
of hearts that beat to rhythms unbroken
despite chains meant to silence.
In this quiet moment, I reflect on the complexity of legacy. To live within a democracy means to carry its history in all its contradictions—glory and pain, triumph and betrayal. There is a weight to understanding that the freedoms we cherish were not simply given but seized through struggle. We inherit both the victories and the scars of those who walked before. This knowledge is humbling, for it reminds us that our own choices carve the paths others will tread. The work is never complete. We are tasked not only to preserve but to reimagine, to ensure that each voice, no matter how small, is heard and valued.
The river rushes, carving stone and soil,
never ceasing in its forward march.
It is patient, persistent,
wearing away what resists.
We are like this river, relentless and unsure,
seeking paths that twist and turn.
To stand for what is just is to embrace
the unyielding current, to face resistance
with courage tempered by compassion.
Each drop matters—together, a force,
separately, a ripple lost to time.
To choose the harder road is to know
that every moment of integrity echoes.
Courage often begins in isolation—a single heart beating against injustice, a lone voice piercing a silence of indifference. I have seen this courage in the smallest acts: a letter written to expose corruption, a protester standing firm despite the threat of violence, a neighbor extending kindness to someone who is different. These acts are seeds, planted in the rocky soil of division. They may not blossom immediately, but their roots take hold, transforming landscapes one inch at a time. To be brave is not to be unafraid; it is to move forward despite the fear, knowing that even small actions carry immeasurable weight.
The rain falls, steady and unyielding,
turning dust to mud beneath our feet.
Footsteps press deep into the earth,
each step a testament to resilience.
We are pilgrims of a shared hope,
wandering, seeking the promise of light.
Unity is not born of sameness,
but of difference embraced,
of voices raised in discord that seek
not to drown one another, but to weave
a tapestry of perspectives vast and true.
In this march, we hold each other up,
knowing strength is found not in isolation
but in the bonds that tie us close.
To speak of unity is to acknowledge its challenges. We are not called to agree on every point; rather, we are called to respect the humanity in each other’s differences. Our democracy is fragile precisely because it depends on the push and pull of contrasting views, on the tension that sparks growth. This tension is not without pain, but it is necessary. True unity demands listening—truly listening—to perspectives we do not share. It asks that we see each other, not as obstacles, but as partners in a difficult and ongoing conversation. We will stumble, but the act of reaching out again, of trying, is where our strength lies.
Dawn breaks, soft as a whisper,
washing the world in hues of gold.
Mist rises, ethereal and fleeting--
a promise of renewal, of beginning anew.
We stand at the edge of light and shadow,
our choices yet to be made.
To lie, to be corrupt, to betray--
these are paths of least resistance.
But to choose truth, to act with compassion,
to bear the weight of what is right--
this is the burden and beauty of freedom.
The earth waits beneath our feet,
a canvas for each step, each stand, each vow.
In this light, I ask myself what it means to carry this burden of freedom. It is both privilege and responsibility—never simple, never easy. To do right when no one is watching, to speak truth even when it shakes foundations, requires strength that is not always visible. But our democracy is a living testament to those who made these choices, often at great cost. Their courage challenges us to be better, to act not for applause but for the quiet satisfaction of knowing we did not falter when it mattered most. It is a heavy mantle, but one worth carrying.
As the sun climbs higher, illuminating all,
We turn inward to we, the bearers of hope:
What will we build with the tools of truth?
What justice will we shape with our hands?
The road is before us, unmarked and wide--
an invitation to carve new paths,
to hold light against the rising dark.
Our work is long, but it is shared,
bound by purpose and fueled by love.
Together, let us shape what is yet to come,
with every breath, every step, every flame
held high against the winds of doubt.
