Carrion My Wayward Son

This morning, I grabbed my $5 watercolor set and let the brush lead the way. What emerged was an American eagle perched over a deer carcass—a bold, primal image that felt deeply tied to the times we’re living in. Naturally, I had to title it “Carrion My Wayward Son.” (You’re welcome, Kansas fans!)

The eagle, our national symbol of strength and resilience, has an often-overlooked side: it’s also a scavenger. It thrives not just on soaring heights but on the grit of survival, consuming what others leave behind. Isn’t that an oddly perfect metaphor for where we are right now?

With a new administration stepping in, there’s a collective sense of unease—like we’re flying into unknown territory. But let’s be honest: we’ve been circling the carcass for a while. Our systems—healthcare, education, food, energy—have long been in need of a shake-up. This could be the moment we begin to shed the bloat of unchecked capitalism and nourish ourselves with the opportunities it leaves behind.

Change is scary, but the eagle reminds us to adapt. We can find strength in what feels like destruction. And maybe, just maybe, this is how we move forward—taking the best of what’s left, reshaping it, and soaring higher than before.

So here’s to scavenging for hope, one carcass at a time.