I’ve been feeling a bit down. There is so much political bullshit screaming at me from all angles, so much lying and maneuvering and power grabbing, and then all of the #metoo revelations and then the backlash to the #metoo revelations, and then our elected officials acting so badly and so poorly, and whatever has happened? Is there no such thing as integrity any longer?
Sometimes it’s hard to write. Sometimes I think: I don’t want my words to be read by people who elect people who act badly against women and minorities and immigrants and those less fortunate in background and income and circumstances. I don’t want to fling my words out into that type of world. I can’t trust that my words will be honored, that anyone’s words will be honored in this less-than-honorable world.
There are victories, small and inconsequential but victories nevertheless. Take, for instance, our neighbors. They raise chickens, not to eat but for the eggs, and because they love chickens. They truly love chickens. So when one of their chickens began to act poorly, they brought it inside the house and tucked it inside a cozy cardboard box, in hopes of giving it one warm and luxurious last week of life.
Then, after meeting with a vet, they realized that the chicken wasn’t dying, it simply had a sprained leg. Yes, a chicken with a sprained leg, isn’t that wonderful? They taped up the chicken’s leg and returned it to the coop and it’s doing fine and well.
I don’t know why but this story really boosted my morale. Because we can be a horrible species. We can lie and cheat and treat one another poorly. We can kill and wound and steal and take what we feel we deserve, with little regrets. But we are also capable of small and beautiful moments, and I think that these moments are what we should honor and exalt, not celebrities with money or people with high-powered jobs and high-powered incomes and high-powered vehicles but normal people going out of their way to make life a little better for each other, and for their chickens.
Other news: It snowed today, the spruce and birch trees covered so that everything looked soft and feathery, like a scene from a movie.
I also have a winter (sort of) poem up at Wild Violet Literary Magazine. Here’s the beginning:
The Second to the Last Time
when the moon was full and I wore my navy silk pants / and my car got stuck in your driveway and I read poems on your rug naked / the space heater warming my ass / and you said I was a cat in another life and I laughed because I knew I was really a dog / willing to be kicked and come back for more / and after the sex and the sounds we walked the mountain roads / snow and silence / it’s easy to feel alone when you’re holding someone’s hand / we walked fast because our legs were cold / and I remembered a movie scene of a woman leaning over a railing to wave goodbye to her lover / I wondered if I’d wave when you left / but I stood in the airport and watched you walk away / then I drove home and drank tequila mixed with almond milk because I was vegan and didn’t want to cheat /
Read the rest here:
And more pics of winter, just because I can.