Posted on January 27, 2026 by Jenn Zatopek

WHEN I AM FREAKING OUT

We walk under thickets while I’m coiled in fear,
reeling from the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti,
from raids on black and brown bodies, from all that
keeps us from each other. My partner points out birds,
says look up, and then our stroll becomes hallowed,
and I stand with eyes closed, hear the forest
speaking to me, to you–

Chirps of the cardinals, cries of the northern flicker,
hoot-hoot of a barn owl, like neighbors hugging
each other in Minneapolis, like friends cheering on
friends as they protest cruelty and violence,
like me becoming this tree in the woods,
fear loosening as wind rustles the branches,
as if to say, trust in the unfolding,
open in kindness to each other,
that fear is high, yes, but we have
a choice to love and care too.

Image / Thickets of trees by the levee in town