I watched the US Elections with horror and felt the total despair and terror from my US friends. All I could do was write. I am working on a space opera and these paragraphs feel apt now:
“Ready?” she said. Already the sky lanterns were floating about us, rising up into the night sky. The scene was magical. We lofted our sky lantern up and it began to ascend. We stood close to each other, watching it join its compatriots in the sky. It was courage, it was brilliance, it was our clan’s collective wishes for the new year. It was our howl shining with lights. Heaven would hear it. Heaven would hear our song.
Holding April now, the memory was just nostalgia. No. The memory was power and strength. Our clan would prevail, as it had, for many generations. We would continue to lit sky lanterns for ourselves, if not for our children and descendents. Our lights would grow stronger, brighter. Even if they faded, more would take our place and join the multitude. After all, was hope stronger than despair?
(not a sky lantern, but it gives light in darkness!)