Where Does Your Voice Find Refuge?

The news remains bleak. World peace feels elusive. History echoes with the clang of wars waged by those who crave land, power, control, dominance. Consensus crumbles beneath the weight of age-old conflicts, each side fighting to shape the world in its own image. I’ve wrestled with these heavy thoughts, searching for a flicker of hope in what often feels like overwhelming darkness. The struggle feels relentless.

Where Does Your Voice Find Refuge?
by Louise Gallagher

It is easy to stand for freedom
when there’s no cost to stand
blowin’ in the wind
with the prevailing view.

It’s easy to voice your disagreement
with someone else’s opinion
when there’s no consequence to your safety
for holding a different view.

But where does your voice find refuge
when dissent is weaponized?

What do you do when your words become
the tool others employ
to vilify and demonize you as ‘other’?

Can free speech find its truth
in a world where only those opinions
acceptable to some
are deemed worthy?

Can anyone be free
in a world where some voices are tolerated
and others are obliterated?

Can freedom survive
when only the few use their power
to grant it to the voices who stand
singing their tune?

Perhaps there is no clear-cut answer,
no easy path to save freedom from demise.
But dreamers dream of freedom
leading us to hope
that our voices rising up,
our hands reaching across
the words that divide us,
will reclaim the truth:
We are one humanity,
no matter where we stand
or what song we sing.

Oh The Times They Are A-Changin’

The sky is very different today than when I took this photo last week. It is grey and lowering. Heavily pregnant grey clouds release their bounty upon the earth, nourishing plants and trees and soil. A prayer of hope for all life on earth.

The forest outside my window is different today than it was a week ago. The forest canopy is lusher. Full of spring’s delicate breath. Green leaves dance in the wind upon branches that sway with hypnotic grace, like a thousand Sufi mystics spinning in prayer.

The river too is different. Spring runoff in the mountains has begun in earnest. Snowbound slopes have given way to spring’s promise, releasing their burden of snow to the streams and rivers below. Outside my window, the river waters are swollen. They run high and fast. Their rushing waters flow with the secrets of time gathered from mountaintops and valley bottoms leading them to the mystery of a distant, unseen sea. Listen. The waters are chanting. They are pregnant with a luminous prayer echoing through time. May the river never stop flowing, they whisper. May time always pass.

The world is different today than just a few short days and weeks ago. Not just because of Covid 19’s sinister presence that still cautions us to slow down, to stay sheltered. It is different because the voices of the people are rising up as one voice, clamouring for change, marching for justice, kneeling on bended knee in unified prayer for the sake of our humanity.

Bob Dylan’s 1964 iconic song says it best:

Oh the times they are a-changin’.