PRAYER

If my God were a transactional God,

I would be negotiating

right now

for an immediate savior.

How many novenas,

rosaries, masses

are required 

to pray this man

out of Washington?

How much self-denial,

abjuration of bad habits,

and self-mortification 

would set us free?

Can we devote our accumulations 

of indulgences to this cause?

Time in Purgatory would be a blessing

after these four years.

If my God were a vengeful God,

I could understand.

We have not been 

a devoted people, and

have been led astray

by all and sundry, 

and have twisted your laws 

to suit ourselves,

our comfort, our own desires.

O God of transactions,

O God of vengeance,

but, most of all,

O God of forgiveness,

take this cross from our shoulders,

and grant us, again, your peace.

 

COVID

2020, year of loss. Missing...

Hugs and kisses, family dinners,

baseball, football, the Olympics.

Quick runs to the grocery, or the mall.

Travel, handshakes, museums, libraries.

Theater, meetings, impromptu dinner parties.

Wine and cheese and cocktail gatherings, 

headlines that don't include 'virus',

doctor's appointments in a room with a doctor.

School and sports and movies in a theater,

meals in a restaurant, drinks at a bar.

walking hand-in-hand, or arm-in-arm,

sharing an ice cream cone, or a bag of popcorn.

Church and singing and coffee hours,

Pats on your shoulder, pecks on the cheek.

Easter, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day.

Graduations, weddings, reunions,

vacations, the beach.

Crowds.

And, in exchange, we get

masks and gloves and wipes and sprays,

less traffic, more walking, and delays

(while surfaces are sanitized).

We know the names and faces

of public health officials, and have forgotten

those of masked neighbors...we know

the daily statistics of infections, deaths,

and positivity rates.

Have seen nasal swabs and ventilators

and the insides of many hospitals that

we didn't want to see,

along with refrigerated truck mortuaries.

People reacting violently to

humane requests to wear a mask.

Editorials and op-eds and 

unfounded speculation on hoaxes

and vaccines and conspiracies

and politicization and finger-pointing,

when all we want

is straight talk, informed talk,

science, if you will,

that knows whereof it speaks:

the what, the why, the how, and

(most important)

when it all will end.

After 9/11

Nineteen years ago. 

Deaths overwhelmed us,

Three thousand dead, ten times more injured.

We listened avidly to the stories:

survivors and heroes and

ordinary people who stood up 

to help in an event

they could barely comprehend.

We stood, stunned,

and watched the towers fall

again and again and again,

hoping it would not be real the next time,

it would all be simply a dream:

the images on the screen,

the memory, the fear,

the gut-wrenching uncertainty

destabilizing all we knew. 

We held on. We prayed.

We survived.

Today we stand, stunned

and overwhelmed.

We are losing sixty times that toll

to other enemies we do not understand.

We are losing the west to wildfires.

We are losing the faith of our youth

who no longer believe we can fix what is 

so terribly wrong.

Protest and violence are our daily bread.

Our people, our land, and our future

are dying, and there aren’t enough heroes

to save us. It’s hard to believe in heroes

any more. We are  beset

by dishonesty, by fear, by corruption.

Belief and trust are gone.

There is nothing and no-one to hold us together.

We are flying apart with each turn of the globe,

and we continue to whirl

out of control:

faster, faster, faster.

O God, slow us down.

Rewind the clock and make us try again.

Return us somehow to the point

where we were our brothers’ keeper;

where we reached out in sympathy, 

not struck out in fear.

Take our disordered values 

and rearrange them into what we

once knew them to be.

Have us look with new eyes

at the world we have broken;

have us look at each other and

give us the will to fix it,   

to move on together

with faith,

with hope,

with love.

Reality TV

Just because it's on television doesn't mean it's true. All of us learned this when we were little kids, but now, the Republican party wants us to forget that and believe what we see on TV, over and above our own experience and common sense. 

They would have us believe that the president is compassionate and caring because his family and the people who work for him say so. Just because the taped segment at the RNC showed this doesn't mean he cares.

They would have us believe he supports diversity and immigration because he appeared at a naturalization ceremony; that he is defending law and order because he showcases a couple who stand on their front porch with assault weapons. Just because he makes a movie doesn't mean it's true.

He shows us film of riots and fires and looting because he thinks that will frighten us into supporting him. Into believing that this is the fault of his predecessor (who has been out of the picture since 2016.) Just because he shows a film doesn't mean he's placing blame where it belongs.

What has he done to promote law and order besides ordering in anonymous troops in Seattle, against the express disapproval of local government? Or pushing back and gassing legitimate protesters so that he could have a photo op. Just because he holds up a bible doesn't mean he cares one whit about religion.

I am so tired of being lied to, of being told that up is down, and backwards is forward, and chaos is order. I am tired of being told that science is wrong and opinion (his opinion) is right; that he is championing our country abroad-- while world leaders laugh behind his back. While people are dying, he insists that this virus is a hoax. While the country goes to hell, he insists that he alone is innocent, that everyone else is persecuting him for their own ends. Just because he says it loudly doesn't mean it's true.

Just because he doesn't believe in global warming doesn't mean it isn't happening. Just because he doesn't like to be criticized doesn't mean the free press is pushing fake news. Just because people stand up to his lies doesn't mean they deserve to lose their jobs. Or deserve to keep them simply because they drink his brand of Kool-Aid. Just because he covers his ears and shouts, "LALALALA" so he can't hear them, doesn't mean the voices aren't there, telling the truth, telling the story of the American experiment, encouraging, teaching, caring, being what Americans are supposed to be. He simply doesn't want to hear. 

Just because he televises his fantasy doesn't mean we should believe in it. Or vote for it.

Hiding Out

So here we are in the midst of this mess, 

waiting and wondering; it’s anyone’s guess 

if this will end, and, if so, just when 

things will get back to normal again. 

We clean and we wash, we bake and we cook, 

and, now and then, we pick up a book. 

but you can’t read forever, and TV is spurned 

as far worse a punishment than any have earned-- 

so we Zoom and we FaceTime about quarantine 

and all of the crazy, absurd things we’ve seen, 

(including our president, and all of his minions, 

of whom, if we’re honest, we ALL have opinions.) 

We talk, and we watch and we wait and we see 

progress, as slow as this month seems to be: 

improvement by inches, or by centimeters, 

by microns (or smaller), or by nanometers. 

We’ve marched on in darkness so long, I contend, 

this tunnel MUST have a light at its end. 

Diameter

Growing older is a question of adjustment.
The measures of our lives change daily:
the lengthy ribbon of time coils behind us
and stretches ahead still-- in shorter length.
Our world's diameter shrinks,

and we find ourselves isolated and

alone in a narrow world

of too-far-to-walk and too-tired-to-drive;

of meals and plans too much for one, 

of contemplating leftovers

of all varieties.

The weight of youthful optimism 

is no match for the grumbling lump

of complaint that overbalances it.

I am heavy with it, come up short

in every comparison. I am

too long, too short, too heavy, too light,

too weary, too late, too early,

too long in this world, but

not ready for the next.

Pivot

 

Where is the point where the tide changes?

It is too gradual; only those who watch and wait,

who chart and note, who know their history

can predict the future. 

What is the chance of a vaccine, and when

might it be expected? Look to the past? 

A past without technology, analysis 

and data points to study? No.

When will we return to what

we knew as normal? To theater

and restaurants and friendly hugs,

to life without masks and calculations

of how close is too close, and

how many are too many? Possibly never.

When and where will this tide begin to change?

Who notices in the protests, the speeches,

the political lip-service, the photo-ops,

the infinitesimal progress (if it exists)

made toward where we started: toward

equality and justice for all?

 

What are the chances of emerging

from this miasma of lies

and doubt and suspicion

that we inhabit? We are drained--

parched and thirsty for a rain

of hope, a fresh and driving wind

to dispel distrust. We need

a savior, and, if not a savior,

a prophet, a guide, a pivot point

that turns this tide.

When will we ourselves begin to change?