fill me with rage. fill me with despair. how dare you, keeper of all things, not fill me with the willingness to do something about it? fill me with the willingness to do something about it. fill me with magic tricks. i’ve got one for you, see that forest over there? watch it disappear. see that river? better not get in. if you’re brave enough to swim, better rinse it off you after. see that sky, black and blue? clotted with capitalism? stained with white supremacy? fill me with grief over all of this greed. fill me with fire in my chest while i plan out carefully what i am going to do about it. fill me with a plan. fill my world with the right people to turn it around. fill every heart with the burning desire to fight back. fill me with knowing when to shut up, and knowing when to speak up. fill me with recovery. remind me i am not an imposter in my own body. remind me. remember? fill me with basil, the way the scent reaches every bit of the lungs, gets stuck in the wet of your mouth, the hairs of your nostrils. fill me with mint, so green, so tall, so ready to live. if mint could make a sound it would be mirth. just laughing in complete joy. fill me with complete joy. i’m so sick of grieving. fill me whole while we resist together. fill me up with revolution. feel how it surges up. fill me with insurgency, with a path to recovery. fill me with the understanding that doing nothing at all is death anyway. fill me with doing something. fill me with retribution. fill me with redistribution. fill me with living. fill me with the weight of it, how that feels in a body. fill me with hope in the face of almost certain failure. in the face of fighting anyway. fill me with making mistakes and mistakes and mistakes. with lessons about how to move forward. better, and stronger. transformed. i’m sick of being resilient. fill me with tenderness until i balloon burst from the brush of a finger. i am not resilient. i am not whole. fill me with every broken, frustrated piece of myself. fill me with every story i tell myself that holds me back. every story that keeps me going. fill me with surviving. with fear. with how scared i am of other people seeing me. witnessing all my messy, healing parts. witness me despite this. fill me with a shadow of doubt. fill me with enough doubt to doubt all the doubt. fill me with a millimeter of trust. just enough to get started. just enough to build on. fill me with measurements and steps. fill me with opportunity. fill me with brief flashes of a different world. snap me out of only dreaming what i’ve been taught to dream. fill me with possibility. fill me with invention. fill me with every word ever spoken, ever written. with expansiveness. with contradiction. with collective knowledge. with collective power. with intention. fill me with one foot in front of the other. with one day at a time. with cracks in the sidewalk passing underneath. one hour, one minute, one second at a time. fill me with reverie. wrap me up in dreams precious enough to match the swimming glow inside of me. inside of you. wrap me up in music while the bitter burrows, refusing to let up. wrap me up in songs. wrap me in yellow. wrap me in moonlight, a triangle from me to the sun. a constellation. wrap me in stars sobbing in a graveyard. surround me with old bones. fill me up with far away family, a different coast, a different timezone. wrap me in the branches of a magnificent redwood. shake me like a swift and forceful wind. shake me until it all comes avalanching down, and out. shake me until i understand my own power. my own voice. surround me with the deep magic of the earth. surround me with streams, glistening, all leading to rivers, all leading to oceans. fill me with the still, quiet darkness of the forest. where spirits gift knowledge and passageways forward. fill me with readiness. it may be dark, but i am awake. it’s time for action. and your limbs will want to be ready for the dissent.