INCANDESCENT

4.1.2020

events unfolding at a pace building each detail falling into tentative place until there is still more, and more change this person's place the tears grace cheeks of fear or else those facing final fates dates, dates, dates calendar ticks with weight numbers tallying can't count the masses of family fought the myriad of love, ripping seams tripping bodies... oh bodies our inability and frailty weakly all days crawl along, along along so very long timeline unfolds and timelines fill the joking, the distracting, the angry, the bills, the election, the census, the world, the locale, changes. changes now. I miss you. it's really that simple. I miss you. I look ahead at the day we gather again but wonder, with solemn unknowing, who may not be present with us? who may not survive such a time and what, if anything could I possibly do? could I possibly do? to change any outcome to impart hope when there is none deep in my bones may it rise up, singing despite me despite my inability any weakness make manifest HIS GLORIOUSNESS ooooo sweet Jesus we anticipate You. hanging with heaviness of all that is all that is becoming and, yes, changing relentless and restless n e w s feeding us newsfeeding on troughs of friends who (all of us) can't handle this we, in our smallness now ever exposed are unable entirely and shown this cannot be home hostile to holiness and raging in the grief of what is always inevitable but now, evermore, timely death. is not new but seems soon sooner than "should" sooner than our timeline our plans, our hopes, dreams. we didn't get much of a chance but chance after chance after chance what will I do today? what will I do these next fifteen minutes? when I finally stop awaiting this storm's passing days but blissfully, foolishly, DANCE IN THE RAIN? "HOW DARE SHE DISCREDIT THE BURDEN HANGING SO HEAVY IN THIS AIR? HOW DARE ANY PERSON NOT LET DEATH TRULY SCARE? HOW CAN YOU SAY ANYTHING OF GRACE WHEN MORE DIE DAY BY DAY? WHEN RACIST HATE TURNS ITS UNWELCOME PAGE AGAIN, AGAIN, SEE OUR SOCIETIES' WOUNDINGS AND WHO ARE YOU? SHE. SHE..." who am I? anyway. really. and why this still small voice rings in me restfully, sweet singing "nothing, no nothing nothing to do but believe" even when I seem make-believe childish foolish downright dumb ignorant complacent beating empty drums I... ...I arise light to try to shine to say yes again somehow to dying, myself (if even true death may come) and to, yes, dance with the gravity not make mice of mammoths but still, somehow lightness in the plummet joy... play.


(after the poem concluded,

I'm sad to say

this line also floated in,

so I'll let it have its space:)


easy for me to say.