A magazine exploring the intersection of art and action to create greater social and economic justice
Honoring George Floyd’s Life
May 2025
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The collaborative poem in this week’s post emerged as I talked on the phone with Millie Renfrow when she was in seclusion during the pandemic. She said she wasn’t writing much poetry, and I asked her to tell me about her days of what she called nothing, and I started jotting down what she was saying and arranged them in a poem. I shared the poem with her daughter who sent me some pictures of the sketches that Millie had made. This is one of those sketches
The poem does speak of being alone and keeping yourself occupied. But those times aren’t so different as they are now. Trump has created a pandemic and if we get depressed, we are in danger of hibernation. We were staying home back then and now there will be more staycations because of national Park closures, due to staffing shortages. You know, all that money we wasted on people to clean bathrooms at national parks, and search and rescue, and taking entry fees, and shockingly on educating the public!
Mary Ellen Talley
(See post below titled A Long Time of Nothing)
This is one of three sketches drawn by Millie Renfrow during her seclusion during the pandemic. They are untitled.
We are an artistic community that recognizes the intersectionality of all injustices
and believes that art is essential to social change.
A weekly column for you to share the actions you are taking to resist the erosion of our democratic institutions and practices and the rise of authoritarianism. We hope that sharing your stories will provide ideas and inspiration for others to take whatever action they are willing and able to take. Every individual action we take is part of a broad collective effort for justice.
Please keep your posts no more than 150 words and email to breatheeveryone@gmail.com. Feel free to include a photo of the action taken if appropriate.





'Hard Work and Good Intentions' by Lew Jones
By Becca Lavin
and if nothing more
she would feel some connection
to whatever myth she could conjure
in the moment
somehow she would gather strength
weathered, worn and beautiful
like autumns’ leaves
to her basket-bosom