I wrote the poem below - Love in a Time of Chaos - some time in the spring of 2018. I wanted to write a love poem that included everything - bringing in the endless chaos.
The initial impetus of the poem came from seeing the horrific imagery of the dead refugees (mostly children) rolling in the surf on the Greek coast.
War Chaos. Economic Chaos.
This was around the same time that information was just beginning to surface about how
the children of refugees and migrants on the southern border of the US
were being separated from their parents and caged.
Xenophobic Chaos.
At the same time, there was a terrible drought here in New Mexico, which only got worse later that summer - many cholla and pinon died on the hills around where I live.
Climate Change Chaos.
This was around the time that the Trump administration (under John Bolton), disbanded the White House pandemic response team, along with enormous budget cuts to the CDC, th NIH, and the WHO.
Idiot vs. Idiot
Chaos from Ignorance.
Chaos from Greed.
Is love possible without including everything?
Can love exist in a bubble?
Because of the current Coronavirus Chaos
we are all in each other's hands now.
Love doesn't exist in a bubble.
*******************
Love
in a time of Chaos
for
Michaela
1.
Dust
reaches the height
of
every peak: brown haze,
shifting
silhouettes. Some
kind
of dark magic; danger,
confusion;
and ecstasy
(that
eerie light inside a
wall
of dust that reveals
the
wall to us, to itself).
Blossoms
and bees and ashes
whirl…
2.
A
chair sails across stone.
Moans
from the mouth
of
an empty bucket. New
creatures
rise out
of
the dark, sink back,
and
you touch my hand.
We
hold each other
to
the bed.
Moths
and cigarette butts and
bird
bones whirl…
3.
History
is the tantalizing
scent
of rain. Promise
of
rain (not the actuality)
liberates
everything.
The
angry dead rise
to
the surface to drink,
again.
We are the gasp
of
water as it hits stone.
Cicadas
and war medals and
crushed
beer cans whirl…
4.
A
black ant carries a
transparent
angel's wing
(so
small…angel's wings
are
so small these days),
and
we tell each other
our
dreams: words like
caves.
Cool relief. Relief
and
terror.
Cat's
eyes and drones and
nail
parings whirl…
5.
We
are earth, un-
earthed;
sky, un-skied;
lies,
un-lied; with salt
on
the skin, without salt;
with
water on the tongue,
without
water; with
bodies
turning in the surf;
with
turning away,
without
turning away,
we
whirl…
************************************************
Italian Grandmother's suggestions on Coronavirus
Listen to her.
And Be Excellent to Each Other.
