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A litany of love

A litany of love

When we are afraid,
may we be turned into love.

When we are excruciatingly squirrelly,
may we be turned into love.

When the urge to dance to Pitbull’s song about coronavirus overcomes us,*
may we be turned into love.

Alas poor Fenek, Snoop knows you all too well

When our neighbor rankles us like Snoop rankles Fenek,
may we be turned into love.

When the vulnerable ones we’re supposed to protect spit back in our faces like Reese spits at Shifty,
may we be turned into love.

When our hearts twang with something from beyond ourselves,
may we be turned into love.

When our affections are misunderstood and pooh-poohed like Finn‘s back-riding, scalp-biting ways,
may we be turned into love.

Snoopin’

When we can’t understand a dang thing,
may we be turned into love.

When we’re overcome with sympathy and feel we may die of the world’s pain,
may we be turned into love.

When we miss the fish-mush-bearing volunteer brigade who made us feel safe,
may we be turned into love.

When we can’t heal all or any of the hurts,
may we be turned into love.

“YES I AM A DARLING LITTLE DUMPLING!”

When we feel like children and want to be someone’s darling little dumpling, but we haven’t been little in a long long time,
may we be turned into love.

When we can’t find Cherry Zero anywhere,
may we be turned into love.

When someone steals our cardboard caverns like Faye and Circe have Bobby‘s,
may we be turned into love.

When the words don’t come and we lose what we thought made us “us,”
may we be turned into love.

When we turn in on ourselves,
may we be turned into love.

“All your box are belong to me.”

When we turn on ourselves and each other and this still-beautiful world,
may we be turned into love.

And when we can no longer believe that we can turn into anything but sorrow and shakiness and huge howling fear,
may we be tuned into a love beyond us, by a power above us and all around us and nearer than breath,
and against all odds,
may we be turned into love.

Today.
Tomorrow.
And long after All This is over.

*But may we also obey that sacred urge and dance, because (a) Mr. Worldwide is always on our side and (b) I wholeheartedly concur with aforementioned Mr. Worldwide that we will win.

“RESTORE THE HUMANS! I NEED THE HUMANS! AND THEIR TRAYS OF MEAT!”

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