NOW THAT ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN

 

My granddog Smokey

Yesterday at three o'clock, thunder
roared so loud it shook my window,
then rain, then hail, then snow - snow
on the west coast, so rare. But weather
is disturbed now, everywhere.

Yesterday at three o'clock, in the city,
a giant tree fell into a couple's
living room and killed them
where they sat.

Wildfires in Colorado wiped out 
hundreds of homes, and then it snowed.

Ice floes are melting and, in the north,
the earth has tilted slightly on its axis.
I live on a coastline. When the waters rise,
mine, along with many other cities,
will be washed away.

And yet we live as if that day
will never come, because
the alternative, living in fear
instead of gratitude, is no way to live.

My neighbour came too close to me
in the lobby, talking his germs all over me,
then told me had just had omnicron. 

Now that we know that anything can happen,
how will we live? Can we cherish each normal day,
understanding that, at any given moment,
everything we have can be stripped away?

Can we cherish our mobility knowing that,
in a single heartbeat, it can be lost and 
we'll spend our remaining years
watching life through the window
of a nursing home? Is that what it takes
for us to recognize all we have 
to give thanks for?

Now that we know that anything can happen,
can we be more loving, kind, compassionate,
and grateful for this normal day,
this mix of struggle and hope
with which we face
this challenging year?

Inspired by Now That Anything Could Happen by Joyce Sutphen, at Wild Writing.