In the aftermath of horror and on the anniversary of terror, I can’t stop thinking about being powerless.

Jyssica Schwartz
Sep 11, 2017 · 2 min read
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Last night, as I lay on my pillow in my comfortable bed in my comfortable apartment in Brooklyn, far away from the fires in the west, the earthquake to the south, the hurricanes ripping through my friends and family, I felt safe but scared.

Out of control, so terrified that someone I love would be hurt in this storm.

I’ve lived through a thousand storms, growing up in Florida. Hurricanes are a day off of school and work, a day for junk food, beer, maybe smoking pot in your parents’ garage while in high school.

It feels different now.

As I get older and realize my own mortality and that of the people I love, and as idiots in office say climate change is not real while “once in a lifetime” and “record-breaking” storms and disasters continue to occur, I sometimes feel so powerless.

Power is an interesting thing. Some crave it, and they should not have it. Some shun it. Some deserve it but do not want it. Some give away their personal power without even realizing.

I could not sleep. I worried, I tossed and turned, and I wrote a song.

And then I woke up this morning and could not do any work until I recorded a bit of the melody.

So little in life is within my control. So very little. So I celebrate that my family is safe and unharmed and that I can control myself, if nothing else in life.

These are quite short.

https://soundcloud.com/jyssrocks/powerless this one is what will be part of the chorus

https://soundcloud.com/jyssrocks/powerless-govt this is different

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