Jaci Turner
@scienematters.bsky.social
Commentary and poems of hope, courage & kindness and children’s author. ✍️ Follow to stay connected & see new work each week.
May wisdom and empathy return
to the places
where power gathers.
And may we—
ordinary, imperfect, hopeful—
still be a people worthy
of the blessing we seek.
to the places
where power gathers.
And may we—
ordinary, imperfect, hopeful—
still be a people worthy
of the blessing we seek.
November 27, 2025 at 2:31 PM
May wisdom and empathy return
to the places
where power gathers.
And may we—
ordinary, imperfect, hopeful—
still be a people worthy
of the blessing we seek.
to the places
where power gathers.
And may we—
ordinary, imperfect, hopeful—
still be a people worthy
of the blessing we seek.
And we ask, humbly:
let our laws be just,
let our leaders be honest,
let our neighbors remember
that democracy depends
on the small, ordinary bravery
of choosing truth over tribe.
May we grow into the nation
we keep promising to be.
May gratitude soften us enough
to listen again.
let our laws be just,
let our leaders be honest,
let our neighbors remember
that democracy depends
on the small, ordinary bravery
of choosing truth over tribe.
May we grow into the nation
we keep promising to be.
May gratitude soften us enough
to listen again.
November 27, 2025 at 2:31 PM
And we ask, humbly:
let our laws be just,
let our leaders be honest,
let our neighbors remember
that democracy depends
on the small, ordinary bravery
of choosing truth over tribe.
May we grow into the nation
we keep promising to be.
May gratitude soften us enough
to listen again.
let our laws be just,
let our leaders be honest,
let our neighbors remember
that democracy depends
on the small, ordinary bravery
of choosing truth over tribe.
May we grow into the nation
we keep promising to be.
May gratitude soften us enough
to listen again.
the citizens who still believe
that legality and morality
should not be strangers.
We give thanks for those
who stand guard over the Constitution
not with noise,
but with steadiness—
those who protect the idea of America
even when America struggles
to protect itself.
that legality and morality
should not be strangers.
We give thanks for those
who stand guard over the Constitution
not with noise,
but with steadiness—
those who protect the idea of America
even when America struggles
to protect itself.
November 27, 2025 at 2:30 PM
the citizens who still believe
that legality and morality
should not be strangers.
We give thanks for those
who stand guard over the Constitution
not with noise,
but with steadiness—
those who protect the idea of America
even when America struggles
to protect itself.
that legality and morality
should not be strangers.
We give thanks for those
who stand guard over the Constitution
not with noise,
but with steadiness—
those who protect the idea of America
even when America struggles
to protect itself.
and wonder how he’d see us now—
a nation splitting at the seams,
yet still reaching for the thread
that might hold us together.
We give thanks for the quiet patriots—
the election workers counting under threat,
the teachers shielding curiosity,
the journalists who keep asking,
a nation splitting at the seams,
yet still reaching for the thread
that might hold us together.
We give thanks for the quiet patriots—
the election workers counting under threat,
the teachers shielding curiosity,
the journalists who keep asking,
November 27, 2025 at 2:30 PM
and wonder how he’d see us now—
a nation splitting at the seams,
yet still reaching for the thread
that might hold us together.
We give thanks for the quiet patriots—
the election workers counting under threat,
the teachers shielding curiosity,
the journalists who keep asking,
a nation splitting at the seams,
yet still reaching for the thread
that might hold us together.
We give thanks for the quiet patriots—
the election workers counting under threat,
the teachers shielding curiosity,
the journalists who keep asking,
A simple revelation
of who paid what,
and why.
And the world will finally see
that the story was always there,
breathing beneath the vault door,
waiting for someone
to turn the key.
of who paid what,
and why.
And the world will finally see
that the story was always there,
breathing beneath the vault door,
waiting for someone
to turn the key.
November 24, 2025 at 1:10 AM
A simple revelation
of who paid what,
and why.
And the world will finally see
that the story was always there,
breathing beneath the vault door,
waiting for someone
to turn the key.
of who paid what,
and why.
And the world will finally see
that the story was always there,
breathing beneath the vault door,
waiting for someone
to turn the key.
Still, I believe in the ledger —
in the quiet honesty of numbers
that don’t know how to lie.
One day someone will open the file
that was never meant to be opened,
and the columns will speak at last.
Not in accusation —
just in clarity.
in the quiet honesty of numbers
that don’t know how to lie.
One day someone will open the file
that was never meant to be opened,
and the columns will speak at last.
Not in accusation —
just in clarity.
November 24, 2025 at 1:10 AM
Still, I believe in the ledger —
in the quiet honesty of numbers
that don’t know how to lie.
One day someone will open the file
that was never meant to be opened,
and the columns will speak at last.
Not in accusation —
just in clarity.
in the quiet honesty of numbers
that don’t know how to lie.
One day someone will open the file
that was never meant to be opened,
and the columns will speak at last.
Not in accusation —
just in clarity.
But we were never meant
to hold the whole picture.
Power does not scatter its truths
into the open.
It nests them in trust agreements,
in islands,
in companies with names
that dissolve when spoken.
It bets that we will tire
before the truth runs out of tunnels.
to hold the whole picture.
Power does not scatter its truths
into the open.
It nests them in trust agreements,
in islands,
in companies with names
that dissolve when spoken.
It bets that we will tire
before the truth runs out of tunnels.
November 24, 2025 at 1:09 AM
But we were never meant
to hold the whole picture.
Power does not scatter its truths
into the open.
It nests them in trust agreements,
in islands,
in companies with names
that dissolve when spoken.
It bets that we will tire
before the truth runs out of tunnels.
to hold the whole picture.
Power does not scatter its truths
into the open.
It nests them in trust agreements,
in islands,
in companies with names
that dissolve when spoken.
It bets that we will tire
before the truth runs out of tunnels.
And I keep thinking:
If someone followed the money —
not the myth, not the press release,
but the real current —
they’d find more than balance sheets.
They’d find the shape of the network
it was feeding,
the shadows it was sheltering,
the lives it was buying silence from.
If someone followed the money —
not the myth, not the press release,
but the real current —
they’d find more than balance sheets.
They’d find the shape of the network
it was feeding,
the shadows it was sheltering,
the lives it was buying silence from.
November 24, 2025 at 1:09 AM
And I keep thinking:
If someone followed the money —
not the myth, not the press release,
but the real current —
they’d find more than balance sheets.
They’d find the shape of the network
it was feeding,
the shadows it was sheltering,
the lives it was buying silence from.
If someone followed the money —
not the myth, not the press release,
but the real current —
they’d find more than balance sheets.
They’d find the shape of the network
it was feeding,
the shadows it was sheltering,
the lives it was buying silence from.
Every time I look at those numbers,
I hear a faint hum —
the low electrical buzz of secrets
moving through the walls.
Money leaves traces,
even when the paper trail is burned.
It clings to the air
like static,
like the after-sound of a note
that should not have been played.
I hear a faint hum —
the low electrical buzz of secrets
moving through the walls.
Money leaves traces,
even when the paper trail is burned.
It clings to the air
like static,
like the after-sound of a note
that should not have been played.
November 24, 2025 at 1:08 AM
Every time I look at those numbers,
I hear a faint hum —
the low electrical buzz of secrets
moving through the walls.
Money leaves traces,
even when the paper trail is burned.
It clings to the air
like static,
like the after-sound of a note
that should not have been played.
I hear a faint hum —
the low electrical buzz of secrets
moving through the walls.
Money leaves traces,
even when the paper trail is burned.
It clings to the air
like static,
like the after-sound of a note
that should not have been played.
then insist they needed a fallen man
to balance their books.
And somehow we’re expected
to nod along,
pretend it all makes sense —
a ghost accountant with no license,
no firm,
no reason to command
a hundred million dollars
except the reasons no one will name.
to balance their books.
And somehow we’re expected
to nod along,
pretend it all makes sense —
a ghost accountant with no license,
no firm,
no reason to command
a hundred million dollars
except the reasons no one will name.
November 24, 2025 at 1:08 AM
then insist they needed a fallen man
to balance their books.
And somehow we’re expected
to nod along,
pretend it all makes sense —
a ghost accountant with no license,
no firm,
no reason to command
a hundred million dollars
except the reasons no one will name.
to balance their books.
And somehow we’re expected
to nod along,
pretend it all makes sense —
a ghost accountant with no license,
no firm,
no reason to command
a hundred million dollars
except the reasons no one will name.
Only then
did the Church find its voice.
Not because the truth was new,
but because it could no longer
pretend not to hear it.
Some truths arrive early.
Some arrive late.
But the earliest ones
always begin
in the ordinary hearts
of people who see clearly
long before the world catches up.
did the Church find its voice.
Not because the truth was new,
but because it could no longer
pretend not to hear it.
Some truths arrive early.
Some arrive late.
But the earliest ones
always begin
in the ordinary hearts
of people who see clearly
long before the world catches up.
November 17, 2025 at 3:42 PM
Only then
did the Church find its voice.
Not because the truth was new,
but because it could no longer
pretend not to hear it.
Some truths arrive early.
Some arrive late.
But the earliest ones
always begin
in the ordinary hearts
of people who see clearly
long before the world catches up.
did the Church find its voice.
Not because the truth was new,
but because it could no longer
pretend not to hear it.
Some truths arrive early.
Some arrive late.
But the earliest ones
always begin
in the ordinary hearts
of people who see clearly
long before the world catches up.
Some were simply afraid
to be the first to speak.
And so the months went by—
eleven of them—
until the silence itself
became a kind of wound,
and even the sanctuaries
could feel the heat
of children taken,
families broken,
mercy rewritten as threat.
to be the first to speak.
And so the months went by—
eleven of them—
until the silence itself
became a kind of wound,
and even the sanctuaries
could feel the heat
of children taken,
families broken,
mercy rewritten as threat.
November 17, 2025 at 3:42 PM
Some were simply afraid
to be the first to speak.
And so the months went by—
eleven of them—
until the silence itself
became a kind of wound,
and even the sanctuaries
could feel the heat
of children taken,
families broken,
mercy rewritten as threat.
to be the first to speak.
And so the months went by—
eleven of them—
until the silence itself
became a kind of wound,
and even the sanctuaries
could feel the heat
of children taken,
families broken,
mercy rewritten as threat.
Measured their words
against the fear
of being called political,
against the weight
of their own divisions.
Some hoped the storm
would quiet itself.
Some didn’t want
to anger the people in the pews.
against the fear
of being called political,
against the weight
of their own divisions.
Some hoped the storm
would quiet itself.
Some didn’t want
to anger the people in the pews.
November 17, 2025 at 3:42 PM
Measured their words
against the fear
of being called political,
against the weight
of their own divisions.
Some hoped the storm
would quiet itself.
Some didn’t want
to anger the people in the pews.
against the fear
of being called political,
against the weight
of their own divisions.
Some hoped the storm
would quiet itself.
Some didn’t want
to anger the people in the pews.
A pastor spoke of mercy
on Inauguration Day,
her voice a lantern
in the middle of noon.
But one lantern
doesn’t move a building.
One voice
doesn’t turn a council.
They waited.
Debated.
on Inauguration Day,
her voice a lantern
in the middle of noon.
But one lantern
doesn’t move a building.
One voice
doesn’t turn a council.
They waited.
Debated.
November 17, 2025 at 3:41 PM
A pastor spoke of mercy
on Inauguration Day,
her voice a lantern
in the middle of noon.
But one lantern
doesn’t move a building.
One voice
doesn’t turn a council.
They waited.
Debated.
on Inauguration Day,
her voice a lantern
in the middle of noon.
But one lantern
doesn’t move a building.
One voice
doesn’t turn a council.
They waited.
Debated.
The danger was right there,
unblinking.
But institutions move
like old sanctuaries—
heavy stone,
cold steps,
an echo that takes its time
coming back.
unblinking.
But institutions move
like old sanctuaries—
heavy stone,
cold steps,
an echo that takes its time
coming back.
November 17, 2025 at 3:41 PM
The danger was right there,
unblinking.
But institutions move
like old sanctuaries—
heavy stone,
cold steps,
an echo that takes its time
coming back.
unblinking.
But institutions move
like old sanctuaries—
heavy stone,
cold steps,
an echo that takes its time
coming back.
In the end,
the truth is simple:
The real economy
is the story we live—
not the one they chart.
And someday,
I hope the people who make the graphs
learn how to read our lives.
the truth is simple:
The real economy
is the story we live—
not the one they chart.
And someday,
I hope the people who make the graphs
learn how to read our lives.
November 16, 2025 at 8:36 PM
In the end,
the truth is simple:
The real economy
is the story we live—
not the one they chart.
And someday,
I hope the people who make the graphs
learn how to read our lives.
the truth is simple:
The real economy
is the story we live—
not the one they chart.
And someday,
I hope the people who make the graphs
learn how to read our lives.
One believes it’s winning.
The other is just trying to breathe.
Maybe that’s why the country feels torn—
because we keep measuring success
with the wrong rulers,
forgetting that a rising market
is not the same
as a life that finally feels livable.
The other is just trying to breathe.
Maybe that’s why the country feels torn—
because we keep measuring success
with the wrong rulers,
forgetting that a rising market
is not the same
as a life that finally feels livable.
November 16, 2025 at 8:36 PM
One believes it’s winning.
The other is just trying to breathe.
Maybe that’s why the country feels torn—
because we keep measuring success
with the wrong rulers,
forgetting that a rising market
is not the same
as a life that finally feels livable.
The other is just trying to breathe.
Maybe that’s why the country feels torn—
because we keep measuring success
with the wrong rulers,
forgetting that a rising market
is not the same
as a life that finally feels livable.
where insurance feels like a riddle
no one ever solves.
It’s the economy shaped
by what we carry in our hands
and in our hearts—
worry, hope, endurance.
The quiet math
of ordinary people.
And sometimes I think
the two economies don’t even know
the other exists.
no one ever solves.
It’s the economy shaped
by what we carry in our hands
and in our hearts—
worry, hope, endurance.
The quiet math
of ordinary people.
And sometimes I think
the two economies don’t even know
the other exists.
November 16, 2025 at 8:35 PM
where insurance feels like a riddle
no one ever solves.
It’s the economy shaped
by what we carry in our hands
and in our hearts—
worry, hope, endurance.
The quiet math
of ordinary people.
And sometimes I think
the two economies don’t even know
the other exists.
no one ever solves.
It’s the economy shaped
by what we carry in our hands
and in our hearts—
worry, hope, endurance.
The quiet math
of ordinary people.
And sometimes I think
the two economies don’t even know
the other exists.
And then there is the other one—
the one we wake up inside.
The one in grocery aisles
where everything costs more
than it used to.
The one in kitchens
where rent sits heavy on the table
like an unpaid bill.
The one in cars
that need repairs we can’t afford,
and pharmacies
the one we wake up inside.
The one in grocery aisles
where everything costs more
than it used to.
The one in kitchens
where rent sits heavy on the table
like an unpaid bill.
The one in cars
that need repairs we can’t afford,
and pharmacies
November 16, 2025 at 8:35 PM
And then there is the other one—
the one we wake up inside.
The one in grocery aisles
where everything costs more
than it used to.
The one in kitchens
where rent sits heavy on the table
like an unpaid bill.
The one in cars
that need repairs we can’t afford,
and pharmacies
the one we wake up inside.
The one in grocery aisles
where everything costs more
than it used to.
The one in kitchens
where rent sits heavy on the table
like an unpaid bill.
The one in cars
that need repairs we can’t afford,
and pharmacies
This economy speaks in numbers
too clean to be real:
indexes, futures, gains.
It lives in boardrooms,
inside the language of people
who never wonder
how much milk costs
or what a missed paycheck means.
too clean to be real:
indexes, futures, gains.
It lives in boardrooms,
inside the language of people
who never wonder
how much milk costs
or what a missed paycheck means.
November 16, 2025 at 8:34 PM
This economy speaks in numbers
too clean to be real:
indexes, futures, gains.
It lives in boardrooms,
inside the language of people
who never wonder
how much milk costs
or what a missed paycheck means.
too clean to be real:
indexes, futures, gains.
It lives in boardrooms,
inside the language of people
who never wonder
how much milk costs
or what a missed paycheck means.
Let the walls remember us.
Let them remember the ones
who still know the difference
between honor
and glitter.
Let them remember the ones
who still know the difference
between honor
and glitter.
November 1, 2025 at 2:28 PM
Let the walls remember us.
Let them remember the ones
who still know the difference
between honor
and glitter.
Let them remember the ones
who still know the difference
between honor
and glitter.