Early this morning, history began a new chapter.
Many people are weeping. Many people are angry.
Many people are crying out from all sides wondering
how we are who we are; why we are who we are-
and just as wordless: Who are we?
Why are we?
But I walked to the ocean,
I sat by the ocean,
on a rock by the ocean
this morning,
carrying my heavy heart down to the water.
With every wave the ocean spoke:
"I am still here,"
Then a deep breath in- the pulling
back of the tide, then-
"I am still here,"
There is a comma there, a pause
Just enough for a breath in and a
breath out
And with each exhale the voice kept saying,
"I am still here,"
I started to breathe with her
Over and over and over
Sometimes loud, very loud, with a
booming voice and many white
bubbles breaking
over the piles of seaweed and
spraying tears up over the rocks.
The sucking of air afterwards was just as chaotic.
Sometimes though,
the exhale was soft;
Gaia God's fingers caressing
the infinitesimal rocks of her sand,
grazing the skin of her love
whispering,
"I am still here,"
Hi Bekah. Enjoyed your poem and sent a copy to my daughter who texted me early in the morning that day to ask how I was feeling. She was in shock. Few saw this coming. I was talking to a neighbor yesterday while raking leaves. He said our country to too great to me taken down by this one small person. I certainly agree with that and your poem reinforced what he said. I hope you are continuing to do well. The coffee at Tandem is still great. I might head down to Dana-Farber this winter for a check-in with a doc there. Am also am doing pretty well. Thanks for your blog!
ReplyDeleteHi George! I was just thinking of you the other day and wondering how you doing! I need to make a trip to Portland soon- it's been far too long. I'm so glad to hear you are doing well.
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