Storms and spirit

Why is it that the end of a storm most often shows, or brings, us things. Yesterdays' Nor'easter showed me that yes, you have foundations cracks in your house that caused the ceiling and the fireplace to leak. And I got buckets and towels, and I listened to the frustrating leak while preparing my poetry for tonight's reading (which was cancelled as Norfolk, VA is underwater). Yet while the storm is still feeling her way through Hampton Roads, or any storm feeling out our hollow parts, the cracks in our walls and doors, she is cleaning us, like spirit, making us stop in the middle of the street, in the middle of ourselves. She soaks our basements and rugs, but she makes us stop and listen; she makes us swim when we thought we'd forgotten how. If our loved ones are unscathed and safe, storms clear us of the debris that clotted up in ourselves, from work, or school, or life, our country's wars, the news, and let's us begin again. Change is sometimes good.

john coffey (but not like the drink)

Watching Green Mile tonight I am struck again but Tom Hanks' character's words when he is about to execute the wrong man: "What do you want me to do John? Do you want me to let you go and see how far you get? Because when I stand on Judgement Day, and God says why did you kill one of my true creations, what will I say? That it was my job?"

I again am struck that we live in a society where many people do many things because it is their job. Sometimes we are stuck by our spatial occupation as opposed to our intention. Yet, if given the chance to save someone, what will I , or anyone say, on behalf of someone else, who we know despite it all, despite our fear, our charge to 'live right,' our unintentional or purposeful discrimination and prejudice, what will we say for them? Can we stand up now, for someone, anyone who we know is as good as they come? Who might need a little extra help? I don't know. But John Coffey's character was meant to show us a reflection, to show us we still have choices, we still have time to do some things right. Just thoughts on a Sunday night.

And to think this from Stephen King.

In the Moment

Here's the deal, today. Have been think writing poems about the many things that have happened in the last week, since Theo Smalling's death, the shooting at Ft. Hood and Florida, the discovery of bones, 5 years worth, in a rapist's home in Cleveland, so much more, but it is daunting, the task of being the poet, the task of giving the testimonial to make sense of it. I think, and I think and haven't written yet. So I have to think about what was beautiful that happened instead. Tonight, Friday, my husband brought me my favorite Nina Simone CD. I only had the cassette tape, and he brought me Nina. Then he cooked, on a Friday. African red-red and plantains. And he smiled his warm, I-love-you-for-you smile. So that is good. Purely good. And I'll hang on to that for tonight and tomorrow. Maybe I will write something tomorrow, a new poem for the Nov. 13 reading at Selden Arcade. DT Norfolk. Maybe I'll read something about Theo. Something hopeful, something redemptive for those of us left behind. Thanks bwb. I'll try to write twice again.