My emotions have been all over the place in these last couple of weeks. It’s been so difficult to stay optimistic and motivated. I’m trying to focus as much as possible on blessings. Of which there are so many–clean water, fresh food, my pups and kitties, my husband, family, friends, the beauty of the natural world, the beauty of all the arts, that I am still here. Here’s a poem that I hope you’ll find uplifting.
Lana Hechtman Ayers Threads Threads hang loose from the ties of my too robustly laundered mask. Any day could be my last. This was true even before the coronavirus. But the sky distracts us with its palette of blues, its permanent drift. There’s a Buddhist rift in autonomy now, how probability shifts destiny as if fate was ever more than poetry. The stars are themselves at last, clearer now without excess exhaust. Despite all human losses, summer blooms & blooms, fragrances brighter. My personal regrets grow lighter, float off. Only what I can do this moment matters. Old misgivings scatter like dust motes in a breeze. I remember to breathe deeply, though breath is the way in for this unstoppable death, it’s also the only way to live.