Can You Hear It?

Can you hear it?

It is starting like a flutter or a whoosh or a whisper. Almost inaudible but curious enough that you want to stop and silence everything else to hear it.

Shhh. What was that?

Now it is building muster like the buzzing of a hive disturbed or a trickle turned to a rush in the creek up the way. Recognizable. Unmistakable. Still controllable?

Can you hear it?

Yes. You can.

And perhaps you feel it as well through your footing, once sure, as the ground begins to tremble with its a cappella yearning.

It feels funny.

You don’t like it.

Good.

And as it stretches its aching arms you now begin to understand that it also has a creative pulse and a gnarled intellect; an odor that smells like determination and a taste like perspiration; with fangs…and deliberate legions.

But what you don’t yet know is this.

When you open your cavernous mouth one time too many it will rise up like a backdraft and consume you. It will wrap the tendrilled skirt of its red tango dress around your now uncertain legs until you trip and combust atop the pyre of falsities dampened with crude oil and hatred that you built yourself.

It’s called Resistance.

Can you hear it?