In the Morning, I Pretend

 

South Chestermans
Elisabeth Smith photo

In the morning, I pretend that it is

any ordinary spring morning: four tulip buds

coming up in the plant pot on the yellow-checkered

tabletop outside; blue sky with wispy clouds,

and the long stretch of beach
at South Chestermans

empty of people,
and all mine.

In the morning, I pretend that this

beauty I am in steeped in is
like so many other mornings
I remember:
the rounded hills surrounding my village
so sweet to the eye;

two eagles drifting on the thermals,
wind-surfing the sky.
I pretend that war

is not waging, that we
are all not holding our breath
for fear of
what comes next.

I pretend that
on the other side of the world
families carrying

their babies and dogs
are not being gunned down
in the streets as they
run for their lives,

that people are not
being buried in mass graves
because all the mortuaries
are full.

For this morning, I pretend
all that is going on

is this walk on the beach.
The white dog with black markings

who follows me

because I have treats is shy at first

but, after a treat or two, climbs up

on the log where I am sitting 

and rests his big soft head
on my shoulder,

his face beside my face,
a moment of love and trust
so precious it fills my sad heart
with comfort. With him, I move
gratefully into dog consciousness

and pretend that

this moment of Now
is all there is.
I try to believe

that love is greater than fear;

that light always wins out over darkness;

that this terrible war
is only a nightmare

from which we will
soon awaken.

I am so annoyed. I posted my first version of this poem, which was better, and then blogger, when I deleted an unfinished version, deleted my posted poem instead. Sigh. I remembered what I could from the first poem, but am not happy about the substitution. It was inspired by the words "In the morning, I pretend", from Laurie Wagner at Wild Writing.

sharing with earthweal's open link.