The big Monarchs flew in from the north today. We saw two of the giant butterflies in our front yard, swooping and diving their way to a neighbor’s garden.

She grows milkweed, the only plant Monarchs trust to hold their eggs and host their caterpillars–the captains of their battle for survival.

And it’s a fight. Monarch numbers are dwindling. Their enemy? Indifference. Herbicides. Denial. Nobody wants to admit these beautiful lives are dying on our watch.

And yet? Here on my block, they fly. Just two. On death watch officially. But strong, beautiful, nimble, determined—evoking grateful smiles from my husband and me.

But also stirring hope.

“Look!” I shout, pointing to show Dan the kingly Monarch in flight. 

It is three painful days after the AME church massacre in Charleston. The slaughter still breaks our hearts. Our church in Denver is an African Methodist Episcopal congregation. Our pastor knew at least two of the victims personally.

But are we yet alive? In my yard this morning, I see my answer in a Monarch warrior that just won’t die. Despite deadly attacks, indifference, denial. Despite history.

The granddaughter of Charleston shooting victim Daniel Simmons put it this way: “Hate won’t win.”

Something greater, deeper and grander keeps hope rising, climbing, flying.

As a people, a church, a denomination, we could give into despair, believing nothing will overcome the race hate in America.

Or with fresh hope, we can keep fighting back.

Such resolve emerged at a prayer vigil Thursday night for the nine Charleston victims at my Denver church.

Every faith leader who spoke—rabbi, priest, Sikh, Muslim, Christian, preacher, pastor—invoked God to say one clear thing about hate:

Fight it.

Where?

In our racist families. Our segregated neighborhoods. Our indifferent churches. Our complicit businesses. Our conflicted hearts.

For inspiration, consider the Monarch. Every year, three generations live and die while migrating their way from Canada to Mexico–a fourth generation finally wintering there.

Meantime, their advocates stay in the battle. Asking schoolchildren and home gardeners to plant milkweed. To stop using Roundup and other milkweed-destroying herbicides. To help build the growing network of allies.

Last winter, for the first time in years, the Monarch population rebounded. True, just slightly.

But are they yet alive?

As I walked in my neighborhood today, my husband and I kept seeing them. Soaring. Rising. Flying. Yet alive indeed. Another generation.

Reminding human friends. Don’t stop. The flight is on.

Patricia Raybon is an award-winning author of books and essays on mountain-moving faith. 

To travel along on her Faith Journey, sign up HERE.

photo credit: Grace Beahm/The Post and Courier via AP, Pool; Butterfly photo: Monarch Joint Venture.Org