unbreaking the eggs
so many broken eggs these days
albumin streaming out
leaving yolk to float unsheathed
inside we don’t find paradise
no pastoral landscape humming along
no, it’s despair, powerlessness, resignation
I don’t know how to uncrook the hockey stick
how to bring George Floyd back to breath
how to put the virus back in the bat
how to unspark the fire that swallowed the homes
but it’s like the starfish
shard by shard of fragile shell
I place in my palm
doing something
I trust
to help
Ode to Betsy’s Linen (Valspar #7005-16)
at Bates
I gained an appreciation for
off-white:
all the cream correspondence they sent
before I even arrived,
every dorm wall and pipe
painted this warmer
easier-to-be-in shade,
not blinding white but ivory
and now for years and years
we’ve dipped our brushes in
“Betsy’s Linen,”
her tentative cheeriness
papering over whatever other gestures there’ve been,
making the setting a little more calm
a little more circumspect
(not really changing the parameters of anything)
but smoothing order and a warm openness
onto difficult days
things are almost never black-and-white
but sometimes they’re neutral
This was an assignment for the Emergence Magazine Nature Writing class. We edited work using feedback from the previous session, so this is an edited version of the poem from the May 31st post.
Jumbo Mountain Speaks
come rest your weariness
on these hard rocks
a stiff wind will buffet your body
proving the heart entombed
in your aching chest
still beats
face west
toward the long white wall of peaks
back to the cities
the fires the shards
those fights are for another hour
feel your hardness
drain into the rocks beneath your palms
your porous bones no match
for their fixed crystals
you were not meant for this
your soft bleeding body
weeps water, not ice
just sit and be
while the wind works its way into you
until your rage flickers out
and there’s new space
between your ribs
I know what it’s like
to feel your heart mined out
set upon by pickaxes
swarmed by the rapacious
proving up on false claims
of their right to strip the world
of whatever life they like
and I know
how to lie still night after night
staring unblinking into quiet stillness
until my shoulders ease;
how to outlast dismantling
it takes an achingly long time
for the ore to lose its currency
the forest to gain a voice
and the scars to grow over
but just listen now
to the exultant tough little aspens
reclaiming this mountain
their young leaves fizzing with joy
roots binding the wounded slope
proving
sometimes healing happens
even in this brutal world
even as the cities burn, beauty
on the little peak
in the warm late afternoon light
aspen leaves fired green
hermit thrushes burbling
clouds silhouetting the Divide
my heart empty
and body whole
in a welcoming place
I couldn’t stop saying aloud
it’s all so beautiful
Debaser in Chief
at a time this country needs
men who lay down arms
take a knee
and march with us
he stands scolding
arms folded shaking his head
then wagging his finger
just like my father
standing over my little bawling son
ordering
you –
cut that out
they never learned
the fastest way to end tears
is with with an understanding
hug
something in this breathless time
we all ache for
Jumbo Mountain Speaks
come rest your weariness
here on these hard rocks
with a stiff wind
that will buffet your body
proving the heart
entombed in your aching chest
still beats
face west
toward the long white wall of peaks
back to the cities
the fires the glass
those are fights for another hour
feel your hardness
drain into the rocks beneath your palms
your porous bones no match
for their fixed crystals
you were not meant for this
a soft bleeding body
that weeps water, not ice
just sit and be
while the wind works its way into you
until your rage flickers out
and there’s a new space
between your ribs
I know what it’s like
to feel your heart mined out
set upon by pickaxes
swarmed by the rapacious
proving up on false claims
of their right to strip the world
of whatever life they like
and I know
how to lie still
every night
and stare unblinking
into quiet stillness
until my shoulders ease
it takes a long time
for the ore to lose its currency
the forest to gain a voice
and the scars to grow over
but you can see
all the little aspen now
their young leaves
fizzing with joy
reminding you
that evil subsides
when value systems
shift
lessons in inhumanity
the morning started
with the video of the white woman
marshalling the cops to muzzle
the conscientious Black birdwatcher
discuss:
her use of adjectives, verbs
her tone and its cause
and its potential effect
his position, her approach
the thrashing struggle of her dog
the dog’s current disposition
his vocation
introduce:
the concept of ____ing While Black
(as in, Driving While Black,
Birding While Black)
reflect on:
our favorite bird guide of all time,
Dr. Kabelo Senyatso,
imagine him transported from the relative safety of
Botswana bush
to Central Park’s The Ramble
(racists less predictable than lions)
his life reduced to a color
consider:
what small action you can take
to honor Christian’s dignity
the day ended
driving through Denver
police on motorcycles blocking the street
around the Capitol
helicopter circling
tired protesters with sagging signs
hopeful enough to put their health
and safety on the line
to be counted for accountability
explain:
police brutality
and its unequal application
why anyone must affirm
that Black Lives Matter
that it is possible
for one person to kill another
without consequence
evaluate:
how much more bone-wearying
hatefulness and injustice
9- and 12-year-olds can absorb
in one 10-hour span
your privilege in having any part
in determining what they know about all this
your color and theirs making these conversations
seemingly optional
decide:
whether or not to share
the Denver Post’s crawl
rounding the building
as you drive by:
Denver police searching for driver
who struck protester
during George Floyd rally
when what’s left of everyone
is tucked in,
cry for all tonight’s damaged dreams
