divisive politics – Writers Resist

Gathering

(written the day after the 2024 election)

We woke at 2am to a world on fire.

In dark times, I am driven to gather hidden light.

After the shock,
I wove a basket from tears
and texts “I love you” and “are you ok?”
and grit
and tatters of faith.

I lined the basket with a nest for hope,
one by one I placed in treasures
burnished in the ashes:

3am thoughts:
“They don’t get to have my peace,
I reclaim my peace”
which flung me into the moment
of deep gratitude for
our bed,
my sleeping husband,
and the stirring cat.

A Rumi poem
reminding us that where the lowland is, the water goes
and that weeping draws in medicine.

Lodgepole pine seeds, sealed in resin
that can only release in the heat of a fire.
Eucalyptus branches
that can only bud if the bark is burned away.

The masks we are dropping
to say I love you
without hesitation.

Therapists creating spaces for each other
so we can keep working.
Little sparks igniting around the world
fanning flames of connection.

A veteran, betrayed by our own military,
who could still say
“I survived my toughest days, America will too.”

snippets of conversations:
“we are in this together”
“may your shakiness deepen your groundedness”

Torn and folded notebook pages from my husband’s students
telling him how they are:
“I am really scared”
“I am angry”

The maple tree glowing fiery orange
wrapped in fairy lights.
This little oasis does not read the news.

Perhaps this is an arc of history
that I won’t see in my lifetime,
but I can do my part.

gather and listen
and offer my basket.

Take a penny, leave a penny.

Place in your grief,
your wisdom,
your humanity.
Take what you need
connection,
hope,
a metaphor,
Take each other.

I will gather more.

Maureen Kane lives with her family in Bellingham, Washington. She is a mental-health therapist in private practice in Washington and Idaho. Her work has appeared in anthologies and journals. She is a Sue Boynton Poetry Walk Award winner. Her books of poems are The Phoenix Requires Ashes: Poems for the Journey and Mycelium: Poetry of Connection. Her workbook A Guide Back to You: A workbook for exploring who you are and staying true to yourself is a Chanticleer International Books Awards First Place winner.

Photo credit: Photo by Jari Hytönen on Unsplash.

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Sing the Songs of Our Youth

By Kit-Bacon Gressitt

24 October 2020

Uncle Jack died this morning.

The stroke, the collapse, the surprise mass on his brain? Whichever or all, at least he went faster than Aunt Peggy and Mother. Not as fast as Father—the gift of a heart attack. The comparison? I don’t know, perhaps it’s a futile attempt to lend context to Jack’s death, to the loss of the last of his generation on our closest family branch, my siblings and mine, an attempt to accommodate one loss among many. So many, it’s easier to focus on only one, and it is one that changes us.

My cousins now join us in our adult orphanage—a disregarded subset of parentless offspring. We are left to follow six or seven decades of memories down lanes straight and twisty, dead-ended and endless. To quietly mourn and slowly, slowly recover.

In the meantime, “At least it’s not the COVID,” some will say.

This will enrage me, and not only because of the unnecessary article, but because COVID-19 persists and worsens while too many leaders fail us, abandoning us to the ravages of the virus. But I’m prepared, having practiced my rage for so long—on occasion with Uncle Jack—perfecting it with each onslaught of ignorance and hate and … I don’t know, sociopathy?

Before Uncle Jack lost the strength to place his large hands on either side of my head and lift me to wonderfully frightening heights, before he could no longer deliver his trademark jokes with aplomb, before he was unable to name the seated president, we would share disdain for the corruption of our democracy, revile the sinners and their sins. And when my rage was about to consume me, Jack would swoop me out of its reach with one of those jokes or grab a ticklish, tender knee and draw a giggling yelp instead of a bitter profanity.

Sometimes we would even gather up a friend of Jack’s, the wounded survivor of a Baltimore scandal, and calm ourselves on an early Sunday morning, beside a misted pond. As day broke, we’d fish for bluegills, fry the fillets with hushpuppies in a well-seasoned skillet, and tipsily toast the Fall of the U.S. Empire with Bloody Marys.

That was forty years ago. And that toast was a half-assed joke.

Just a few days ago, Jack didn’t know who I was, but he could still shuffle at least a few feet off to Buffalo, strum an occasional ukulele, and sing our family songs, the sometimes bawdy, sometimes silly songs that have bound us, that overcome schisms and sorrows, that entwine distinct generations and personalities and beliefs into a fun and fabulous choir.

Today, though, the loudest voices we hear are discordant.

Today, I’m thankful for the dementia of Uncle Jack’s last years. I’ve said the same of my parents: I’m grateful they didn’t live to see the corruption that now divides us, that drives people to the polls or away from them, that forces us to don masks or deny they are needed, that keeps us from family deathbeds or exposes family to potential death.

Today, Uncle Jack has died, and I wonder what else we might lose. I don’t know, but I think it’s time to sing the songs of our youth—the cheery songs, the ribald songs—and to hope.

Please vote with love, please encourage others to do the same,
K-B

Kit-Bacon Gressitt is a founding editor of Writers Resist and the publisher. Her website is KBGressitt.com.

Poster art by Holy Mole UK, available from amplifier.org.

Artist’s statement: “My 2 cents on the US election, and of course an ode to the amazing Robert Indiana, the creator of the iconic LOVE sculpture (a global symbol for hope in 1960s) and Obama’s ‘HOPE’ presidential campaign (2008). [Indiana] once said ‘I’d like to cover the world with hope,’ and, with sculptures popping up all over the world, he did just that.

“Sadly, Indiana died in 2018, but I think if he were here he would have felt his voice was needed more urgently than ever. My design uses ‘VOTE’ this time (as he did himself in 1976) and aims to encourage voting in the upcoming US election. I wanted the message to be vibrant, to sing with colour and positivity for the future. There is still hope, but we need to make very bold decisions regarding the environment. The US needs a leader that is more focused on global issues than their own twitter feed! US friends, if you are reading this please vote, it is so, so important!”