Today When I Could Do Nothing

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.