The powers abhor lavender because they are afraid. They have reason to tremble. If we remember that blue veins and red capillaries splash down in the same purple park, we might heal. The abyss knows it is under attack every time opponents erupt in affection. Apocalypse convulses when someone kneels to see if a foe has wet eyes, and both rise together.

Like all liars, the powers carry shakers of truth. Blind the tongue with basil, and children will not know there is spinach in the lasagna. Sprinkle jagged flakes of opinion, and adults will forget that the dinner bell sounds the same under every roof. The powers are correct that our answers do not match. The powers unplug the damaged cord of Kum-ba-Yah, then convince us all the lights are out.

It is true that fast unity provides no nutrition. Real saffron and marjoram distinguish our dishes. If you brush your teeth, you will still taste them. We have all burned the roofs of our mouths. We do not need to burn down the house. We know where we stand. We need to remember where we sit. There are cushions overstuffed enough for red and blue bottoms.

The powers offer thrones, and we are tempted. Their seats are hard enough to change your heart rate. The brocade is gilt with “gotchas.” Everyone in the castle agrees with us. There are no windows or jesters. Conceit comes in cups large enough to swim the backstroke. Wall tapestries are restricted to primary colors. Watercolors have been banished. Watercolors always include purple.

Always, some small animal finds a loose stone in the wall. It may be the feral calico, hand-painted in pastels before she was born. It may be the fox, more orange than red. It may be the skink, more green than blue. The uninvited one gallops among the goblets, shattering glass and mixing the wine. The fever breaks. Erect exclamations curl into commas. This is our chance.

Someone’s cheeks flush magenta. Cerulean tears ripple like reins. When your opponent tells you her mother is ill, you are bereaved of an opponent. Someone may surprise you with a scarf. There are tassels to remind you where you were in the psalter. When “they” make you something with their own hands, there is a severe uptick in the population of “us.”

Healing may wear a fool’s cap. Do not underestimate the pinwheel on top, which catches the light and blinds our guards. Ogres become human in the grocery store more often than the pulpit. We all get overwhelmed in the Cheez-It aisle. We all watch videos of old men holding onto older men so two good men can cross the street. We all want to see aurora borealis in our own improbable latitude.

Lavender creatures are stronger than powers. We can bend so the lighter ones may climb on our backs. We can shoulder the weight of the weird and the one-eyed to build a ladder to the windows. We can weld convictions into carabiners, choosing a better chain.

We can grit our teeth into grappling hooks, waiving our right to disconnect the difficult. We can glue the chipped islands into a continent. The tectonic plates tower with good bread. “Us” is a wide and purple country, unmarked on the authorized map. The powers are afraid.