Life in the Apocalypse

 

The jays chatter on my balcony,
squawking over seed, as if this life will go on forever,
and the seed will always be there.
This is hope in the apocalypse.

I walk into the forest: coolness, peace,
sunlight slanting through the branches,
everything green, green, green:
leafy breath and human sigh.
This is survival in the apocalypse.

At the CoOp, all our eyes meet above our masks;
we nod; our eyes smile. We do not speak,
our words too muffled. But there is not one person
without a mask. This is solidarity, this is a community
caring for each other,  in the apocalypse.

The sandy beach stretches ahead
as it always has; the waves surge to and fro,
they ebb and flow, in their eternal dance.
This is my moment out of time,
my walking meditation, like Thay in Plum Village:
with this step, I breathe in,
with this step, I breathe out.
This is trust and refusal of fear
in the apocalypse.

Inspired by the amazing poem "Surviving the Apocalypse", written by 15 year old Nina Evans, a prompt for Wild Writing by Laurie Wagner