And We Dance

It started with the old ones, when it became obvious that things were really that bad and that there definitely would not be enough food. It doesn't seem as important now, who it was who made that decision. But I'm guessing that it was the same ones that decide everything.

And so everyone over sixty, they said. By this time, this age group consisted of a small handful of tough old women who had made it this far by being willing to eat things that hadn't been tried yet, and knowing when to keep their mouths shut and out of sight. All of them, sent out to the Edge. I didn't believe they would do it but they fucking did and I knew that somehow we were less of a people than we had been before. And of course, that wasn't enough, that handful of crones who really hadn't been much of a drain at all on the meagre resources of what was left of our community.

Then it was the women who refused to sleep with men, for whatever reason. And let me tell you, there were some excellent reasons, besides the completely legitimate preference for our own gender. They didn't actually say that it was because we wouldn't sleep with men, but we knew.

The majority rules. The strong overpower the weak. I can't believe that they don't see that this is how we got here in the first place; why there was climate chaos and desertification and wildfires that burnt everything and floods that washed everything away....so little left, and they still think that Power Over is the power that will save their terrified raggedy asses.

The last season of growing was the worst yet, and it was obvious that we would not all make it, even though the worst of the winter was over and there was as much daylight as dark. It was still a long time until grain harvest, or vegetables. A rogue family of foxes had nearly wiped out all of the chickens, and there were barely enough left to have any hope of eggs and new chicks in the spring. Oh god, I did feel for them, for all of them: men, women and children, and I know it's not going to be long before it is all over for good, and I guess that is the only blessing.

The morning they came for me, I had just finished feeding the ducks: they were subsisting on the spent tea leaves from the medicines I made, occasional insects and what they could forage ....duckweed when the pond was not dried up, and god only knows what else. They had long stopped laying, mostly, but for one or two young ones, though the nasty old drakes were still bothering the poor things.

I heard their boots and their voices, and I knew it meant only one thing. I looked at my sweet Lily, the loveliest little duck that I had hand raised, the only one to hatch last spring, and whispered: goodbye, my dear. I hope you have some good days in your simple life! She turned her head sideways at me, the way that ducks do, when they are taking your measure, or figuring something out. Then she stood and walked away, off to the bush to look for something to supplement the meager meal I had provided, no doubt. And there, miracle!: her egg, still wet and shiny and warm....I quickly picked it up and, understanding that my time was come, dropped it in the pocket of my old grey wool sweater, bundled into my raggedy old handkerchief. This precious gift I would take with me.

I am figuring that it was my treacherous so-called “husband” who had put forth my name to the committee that supposedly governed us. I wouldn't sleep with him any more, for more reasons than I care to enumerate here, and which don't matter any way.....for this alleged crime, I was being exiled, though my body had served him, worked for him, brought him four children into this world.

The old world was dying, the old rules wouldn't serve him or any of them much longer. I was glad to leave. I took one woolen wrap, a potato, and a handful of beans. The brutes laughed at me, and my meager possessions, and my certain and upcoming death. They thought this was funny. How pathetic and ridiculous, when their own deaths could only be a few months or a year at most in the future.

They did not know, did not understand, that a world without diversity, without queers, without women, without those who dance with the moon, without those who understand and lift up and overcome and do differently .....was no world at all. They walked me to the Edge.....

I walked all day, crossing the burnt out prairie, where winters snows had vanished, but springs greenery not yet sprung; the dried out riverbed, the decaying ashphalt, discarded testament to an extinct way of life. The sun was setting and I thought myself lost as I came to the hills, although I thought I heard intermittent whistling deep in their folds. When the last of the copper and gold light slipped from the sky, I saw the glow from a fire. Walked in that direction until I heard another call to me, “come mother”.

I do believe that we have all made it, all those who were exiled for the crime of not being Them. Collectively, we have created shelter, salvaging what we could from the ruins of what was. Nothing is lost, everything is useful. There is fire for warmth, simple foods.

It only takes four weeks to hatch a duck egg; four months for a duckling, if she is a hen, to start laying her own eggs. It only takes a couple of moon cycles for potato peels to produce new tiny tubers, and for bean seeds to produce many times their own selves as new bean plants and seeds. It is not a lot, but not so much is needed, if we cooperate, and love each other and honour our passions and our knowledge and hold each other up. They have all the weapons: we have everything else. And we dance.