Aftermath

Devastate: transitive. To lay waste, ravage, waste, render desolate.

I usually post on Friday. I need to write something today while shock and fear and sadness are still raw, bleeding, fresh.

Standing outside in this early morning sun, I’m clipping deadheads off of chrysanthemums. I look to the rising sun, to these flowers, to my cat on the stone wall meowing because she wants food.

What are we supposed to do with ourselves on a day like this? The answer comes back immediately: after today, after the initial shock wears off, it’s up to those of us who still have options.

If you are reading this, you can make a difference. If you are reading this, you have access to the Internet. You have time to read. You know how to read. Make the difference, through your art, the ethical conduct of your business, parenting, public service, music, kindness to others, a generosity of spirit. There’s more I haven’t thought of yet, but we’ll figure it out.

Given all of the above, I’m still at a loss on what we’re supposed to do today. I guess just let ourselves feel the emotions. Pause to be kind. Talk to your friends. Feed those who need to be fed & tend the garden.

Grounding

Weight of the coffee cup

and muffled clunk

when it’s set down

on red sewn square

edged in yellow stitches

echoing the needle

that pushed through layers—

in one side, out the other.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Under the cup

smooth oak table

four straight legs

planted firmly on

worn floorboards,

cellar down below

carved into the earth

anchored to rock.

Breathe in, breathe out,

and rise again, grounded now:

earth to cellar to floorboards above,

feet, chair, oaken legs,

knees under table, elbows above

hands lifting cup to lip,

release of weight, muffled clunk.