December Fashion Week

We were not invited.

Photo by Diego Corona on Unsplash

Prancing their runways

twenty streets down while

issuing vetted invitations

to huddle, gnaw carcasses and

spin untruths.

Their sequinned polyester jackets

discarded in a hate-rant dance,

making them feel superior,

omnipotent,

and

self-justified.

To us, the shock of their

unveiling showcased the style for

any future:

A tight-fitting sheath of ignorance

cloaked with deafening

silence.

Dear friends. Even if they give you a map at the entrance to the catacombs, it’s so dark in there. Your phone flashlight assists, yet you pray the battery will hold up during the long trek. The path is anything but straight.

To crawl out of the murk you must implant the unwavering belief in light at the tunnel’s end. That mantra will lift you back on your feet despite the stone-cold walls beckoning, “Press your back against me and crumble.”

Instead, look hard enough, and you will smell the sun before seeing it. That is when everything is right again.

© Suzanne V. Tanner, 2022. All Rights Reserved.