Today is no different.
Every
day, we wake to the puppy’s accident.
Every
day, we carry on and carry on
and
carry on.
Friends
and family and loved ones—
we
aren’t thoroughly beat or beaten.
Our time
has been our time—it is
building—as
it has been
building
into the
somethingness of
anything,
the nothingness of
everything.
The
light outside the window is
only
an object of looking.
We’d be
satisfied with that—
but, then, we’d have to say we were—
we are—
satisfied.
The tree
did not say
that was so.
The
newscaster did not say
that was so.
The
presidential candidate blinked
into a lie and
we believed him.
(It’s always a him.)
(We are always believing.)
(And then asking ourselves why.)
(And then telling ourselves why.)
The
explanation seems to true
where are we when we are no
longer enough?
in our
memories
childhood—home,
garden—
where we
were
enough
in the scene under
the
grapefruit tree
dad is
buying pounds of shrimp
The day before the election.
This.
This
right here—watch
Did anything change?
She asks,
“How can
I look forward in this? How
can I
have any true hope—the kind
that
bleeds into the air and mixes with
oxygen
to change the color of
what’s
inside—when it meets the outside—
have
it?”
we all are trying
all the
time to be happy
all the
time to improve our situation
all the
time to see who loves us back
all the
time not to tantrum
all the
time to be gentle
all the
time to respect
to take what is given
to give more than
what is taken
we all
are trying
