My heart has been heavy with the murders in Orlando and, sadly, the ensuing foolish political maneuvering…and I have found that I’m at a complete loss as to what to say. So I started exploring a bit through writing and a poem came out.
Its weight becomes a heavy snow,
Dense drifts pushing against our homes,
Invading our streets and hearts:
You could throw your back out shovelling,
Laboring for a narrow path that soon yields
To the next fateful storm; your hopes
Erased among the desolate winds.
And it is in this moment — despondent,
Thwarted — that you understand hubris;
The appeal of a black-and-white world;
The comfort of something to cling to.
You can sympathize with surrender;
It’s the emptiness you’ve seen
A hundred times behind terrified eyes.
By daybreak, you’re back at it.
Heart beating out of your chest,
Straining with all you’ve got
To refute the enduring lie:
There’s simply too much snow,
And not enough shovels.