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Saturday, before the rain…
Praise be the Intermission. Among the string of rainy days. The divorcee. The widow. The young family. All of us relieved to be let out. Without raincoats or sweaters. Eagerly spreading smiles. Strangers. In the light.
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The back roads. All their ruts & gapes. Rattling winter’s complacency from my bones. A conspiracy of awakening.
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Every day, A new shade
Of awakening, Across
The Land
(and the nation!)
~
Macron visiting. Embracing John Lewis. Addressing Congress about Climate Change. Like a relative who pierces your dysfunctional family as you grasp toward their normalcy, just to taste it, even if it’s not pure, because your parent is an addict, and you’re relieved to have any semblance of sanity inside your home. And when it’s time for Normal to depart, you look after it longingly but feel angry at the same time… Because nothing changed? Because hope is kindled? Because you’re left behind inside.
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Sign of addiction. Losing all perspective on the true nature of the problem. (Also, yesterday, a 3-year-old shot her pregnant mother in the car.) “The contortions our society seems willing to make to accommodate guns in our society…”
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We are living in radically transformative times which always give rise to fear and its companions—grasping, rage, “Circling the wagons.” This is not a time to lose hope but a time to be inspired that a change is gonna come; and if we can soften a bit around the edges, we might find a little compassion for those who are terrified and thus better serve as midwives for a future that is kinder to all.
Two Owls Calling 