It Is Thursday, and This Is What I Know

 

Cox Bay
by Marlon Gayo

It is Thursday, and I want to write a poem, but the words won't come. Because what I know and what we are witnessing is so distressing, how can I infuse my writing with light, with hope, with something a reader can relate to and carry away with them?

It is Thursday, and injustice and corruption are happening everywhere. We expected it, but did not expect it to be this bad. Will there be a government left in four years? In two?

What whispers to me in a corner of my mind is that these regimes have occurred before, and came to an end after terrible suffering of the population. I am reminded that the arc of justice is long, and that farther ahead than is comfortable for us, the tide will turn again. There will be much to mend and heal and all of us won't get there.

May the ones who do learn something from what has happened. May the misinformed who voted, and the lethargic who didn't, begin to understand how precious are our rights and freedoms, how well government works when all agencies are operating within the law and are respected. How terrible it is - so quickly - when they are not.

It is Thursday. The sun is shining. The last of the snow is melting on the lawn. At the shore, the waves advance and retreat as they always have and always will. An early robin looks for worms in chilly soil. A Stellar jay scolds from the cherry tree.

Always, always, I find comfort in the rhythms of the natural world - the everness of it, the beauty. Therein lies peace, hope, and direction. When  humans learn that we are part of this natural system, and are not meant to dominate it, perhaps we will begin to live in harmony with the wild ones. 

It's Thursday, and I listen to the wild ones' song.