Wild Writing Day Three (the title is taken from Jane Hirschfield's poem)
Today when I could do nothing, I:
Sat with the news and wept with the people talking about the
loss of their loved ones at the hands of a mass shooter
Watched a video of a
seventeen year old victim playing her fiddle and wept
Watched Dr Bonnie end her virus briefing with “I will spare
a sigh and a wish for thee” to her
people in Nova Scotia and choked up
Felt my heart swell with pride at how nice Canadians
are, and how hands reach out to help in every crisis
Today, when I could do nothing, I:
Tried to string some words together to say this is how it is
for me today
Remembered that on other days, I can offer more, words that
might help others, but, today, this is the best I can do
Today when I could do nothing:
I decided I cant listen to one word about trump and his
misguided followers today. The mind boggling aspect of some of them standing on
the steps of their state capitals with assault weapons “protesting” health
guidelines, of some of their women donning the red robes and white headdresses
of Atwood’s Handmaid Tale garb, of his advising ingesting bleach to cure the virus and some people doing it, would twist my brain into knots, were I to try
to understand what would be funny if it were not so absolutely deadly dangerous
to so many others.
I did a quick spot cleaning, not the deep cleaning that is
needed, because the weight of world affairs is sapping my energy so that some
days, it is enough just to be living through these times. “Must do”’s can wait.
I shooed a very cute raccoon off my balcony. She was happily
scooping up birdseed with both hands, and I wished I could have let her, but I
live in an apartment, am not supposed to be feeding the birds, and didn’t want
to alert the landlord. I flapped my hands at her and she sat back, assessing
me. Very cute but, for her sake, and the birds, (and my continued tenancy) I
had to say, regretfully, “Shoo.” Cute little masked bandit, she shooed.
I lay on the couch and watched the trees outside my window
dancing in the wind and uttered prayers of gratitude that:
Today, when I can do nothing, I have a roof over my head,
food to eat, and I do not have the virus, the scariest virus – and the worst possible
death – I can imagine.
I have my writing with which I can fill as many hours as I
can sit at my computer
I have connections online with poets all over the world
I have books to read, movies to watch, and peaceful, silent
hours in which no discord ever happens.
And for all of this, on a day when I could do nothing,
I
give thanks. I give thanks. I give thanks.
I enjoyed this glimpse of your day, Sherry. It is amazing how much one can do on a day when one does 'nothing.' How sweet it must have been to get a glimpse of that cute raccoon!!
ReplyDeleteSometimes, it's enough to just be. That's what my spiritual readings teach me. But, I feel helpless at times that I'm not doing enough or nothing really. I give a little money, but I wish I could give more of myself. Let us turn our grief into positive thoughts at least. Let us be grateful that there are so many good people. Like you.
ReplyDeleteBeing able to do nothing certainly causes us to think hard about what we can do, but we do come up with things to do in the end. I also watch videos and we have visitors sometimes, but no raccoons.
ReplyDelete