The river still runs and the leaves are burning,
regardless of this grey sky.

The river will run and leaves twist and fall away,
regardless of the value of a life.

The river will run and the leaves will fly,
regardless of a morning’s fear.

Your false family’s hatred will paint you as leaves,
ephemeral, frivolous, and made to burn,
regardless of this you are the river.

The river still runs.

I feel like I don’t yet have the proper words for my fear and disappointment, so instead, here are some words of support for other people’s fear and disappointment. If I can help you, let me know. We’ve always been in this together, but this is a good reminder of who we are and who we’re fighting.