Back from Joshua Tree on Sunday. Half asleep on Monday. The winds are up and gusting at 30mph they feel as if they will blow everything over, but they will not. They are just winds.
The news broke of Vermont Tech's massacre while I was scouting a Caribbean lunch place with my coworker Karin, neither of us could really tell what was going on until later that day.
33 people massacred by an angry, confused boy.
I haven't watched the TV since and just looked at the papers today. The stories of the lives lost were hard to read.
When I turned the page, I saw that the Pulitzer prizes for journalism were handed out and this photo series on a mother's last year with her dying child stared at me from the pages.
Some days the pain in the world is just too much and you must cry, pray, or hug someone you love so hard you may think that they'll break.
The Japanese poet Issa wrote this haiku in the early 19th century, after the death of his infant daughter:
dew evaporates --
and all our life is dew:
so dear, so fresh, so fleeting
The winds will not blow us down and we will not break the ones we love.
But remember this day, remember these feelings. Fight your anger and pray, meditate, or cry until you find peace.
For some reason, I believe our future depends on it.
2 comments:
Dead my old fine hopes,
and dry my dreaming,
but still ...
iris blue each spring.
-- Shushiki
Yes, I remember that. It's old, older than us, but from a time before. I remember, Karen.
Post a Comment