I thought I'd be more prolific in this pandemic - that words would bloom in the empty spaces once occupied by flippant choices - that my creaky-inside voice would ring in the only-chirp-congested air. But no. I'm in more of a creative wasteland than viral incubator. Words are attached to feelings and feelings are dodgy - unpack one and they all fall out. And so, the expanse of emotion is narrowed. Eek out only as much as required to ease the pressure and push back everything else. What escapes unguarded is a roulette - poked-bear, hysterical shrew, scatterbrained worker-bee. Occasionally producing a pound cake, cobbler or vat of potato salad but few lines of meaning. My body becoming more substantial than my thoughts. Safer that way, maybe? Probably not. Taking my own presto cooker advice to let off a little steam at a time, here are the leakings I can afford today:
It's only a terse news item, a ridiculous political debate, a tirade of opinions - this pandemic - until it's somebody(s) you love. Then it's real. And scary. And breathtaking. All shall be well. My brain knows this, my heart is catching up. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Pray hard. Believe hard. Hope hard. Because bad news is magnified, but so is good. The bad will knock you down, the good will pick you up. Days are not wasted when we glean bits of hope and polish them shiny and radiant and hold them up as sharp shards of protection and warfare. Arms too heavy to brandish swords can still poke tiny holes in the darkness until it looks like stars and then we can use the light to find our way home. If we all did this tiny-hole-poking-thing, the whole night sky might just tear wide open. Then we'd all be safe. Wouldn't that be lovely?
Until then, hunker quietly or shout in the (socially-distant/social-media) street. Spend whatever emotional capital you can spare to get to sunrise. Sound off when you need help. And sound off to let folks know you're ok. I'll start... I am fine. Just narrowing things down to something I can manage. I may not be lighting the world up with creative-fire, but if you need me, I'll be right over here in my little corner - diligently poking holes until morning. All will be well. All is well. Be well. Selah.
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