Sketches from a Quaratine Note: Death Cults

There was a funeral procession outside my door. This isn't an Emily Dickinson poem, this is literal. I woke up, stepped outside for fresh air and saw the gray hearse parked in front of my mom's Honda. There was a police cruiser and a cop on a motorcycle at the front of the small procession and a few cars behind the hearse. I asked who passed and the funeral attendant shrugged her shoulders. "I'm from out of town."

It felt like a surreal shoulder-shrugging variation of the Black Plague call of 'bring out your dead.' I don't know what the message is but a funeral procession at my door does catch my attention. What's going on during this global pandemic is shocking, but it's not surprising. We have been walking this funeral procession for a long time.

All cults end in death b/c they are based in lies and fear. What we are seeing is nothing less than a cult spiraling toward chaos and tragedy. The cult is America or, more accurately, the cult is a certain segment of the population so committed to an identity of false supremacy that facts/information/news does not penetrate. Their deaths will not change them. They will die filled with fear, anger, and lies. We, who are fortunate to survive, will bear witness to their obstinance, ignorance, and poison. I do not know if I will be among the fortunate survivors. But my words will be....