a coping mechanism

I am trying to imagine a place for myself
for the people I love
in this future we would
rather not step into

I am trying to make a place for us
beneath the still and calming sea

Where the water gently
barely
moves our bones collected
together
under refracted sunlight
as the world moves on

I am trying to imagine my future
as rest and peace
even if I am one of the drowning ones

If I imagine over
and over
(it is such necessary work)

the gasping
the desperation

until my eyes are sore
with looking

if I keep going until
my soul is too tired
to ache

the storm will settle and the waters quiet
I will see
just beneath the surface
the sanctuary I have created
for myself
for us

where sunlight is no longer
an insult
where breath is no longer a necessity
where a rainbow can still
somehow
be a gesture

of love
and
light

they say

they say it is just like drowning
letting your lungs fill up with
dirty water                                                 
having the audacity to gasp for breath         they're making hospitals in
when there is not enough air                        parking garages
here                                                              they're turning ice rinks
for everyone                                                 into morgues

they say it is like drowning
and all at once
You are the God of Noah
again                                                             they say     
pouring living water                                      little bits of RNA can live on surfaces
on the busy world                                         for up to 17 days
                                                                      don't touch
                                                                      hold your breath
shh
quiet
there isn't room to save you all                 
climb on two by two                                    that's where they found it
there's just enough space                             on a ship
to save a few                                                they say ships
hang on tight                                                are incubators of all kinds of life
cling to life

the world will be made clean and new

was a line from a Sunday school lesson     
I was supposed to teach once                       they say
line up the wooden bears, and monkeys,     the dolphins
and snakes                                                    play in the canals
fit them into the wooden ship                       the water is so clear
just so                                                            now

stay inside while it rains                              they say it could come in three waves
hold back the pigeon                                                                 
                                                                 
the sin that polluted the earth will be
gone                                                             the animals coming back
some                                                            was a hoax
just some                                                      the stories with the elephants
had to be sacrificed                                      and the swans
plunged beneath the surf                              are what we tell ourselves to make
                                                                     meaning as we grieve

just some lungs will fill                           
suddenly                                                      cloudy white in the x-rays
just some                                                     it happens so fast
                                                                     see?
see?

the earth is breathing                                  the air is clearer now   
again!                                                          over Wuhan, over New York City

the world is being made clean and new   
                                                                   I don't care
                                                                   we never learn
                                                                   I hate this baptism

was a lie I would not speak                       he says         
to the wide-eyed children                          fill the churches on Easter,
in the circle on Sunday                              it's a beautiful day

when we finally test the waters                 they say
when we finally release                             the rate of infection
the pigeon and pray                                   will be exponential
I do not know if I will be there                  will depend on how well
or not                                                          we wait, how well
                                                                   we listen

I do not know if I will look,
sweaty and shaken
for a branch
a sign
that the waters have subsided
that the air                                                  large droplets containing the virus
is safe to breathe again                               can travel up to six feet
e,merge from the ship on shaky legs          stand back

or if I will already be lost                           some
beneath the waves                                      just some

I only know that
any sign of this cruel covenant
emerging bright and clear
over the spreading calm
will always be
accompanied by the bones
(washed clean and new)
of those who did not have the luxury          they say the elderly
to fill their lungs                                          would love to sacrifice themselves

let these bones cry out

the world is being washed                          for the economy
clean                                                            to rise again
and new

is not a good enough story                         I will fight it with my last, gasping breath
                                                                 
you don't get to superimpose                     anything not made of love
a rainbow on a                                           is a lie
tragedy

A sound like singing

My jaw had been wired shut for so long. 

I had a dream where it was broken.

Shattered and reset

So the words could escape in a rushing breath

Open and flowing

Like singing

Now 

In the midst of this heavy-hanging sadness

It unhinges wide for mourning

I cannot shut out the sounds of 

My own grieving 

When I press my teeth together

So my children will not hear

The wail I hold back threatens to break all my bones

With shaking

Now 

As cruelty after cruelty is being revealed

It opens wide for rage

Shouting out loud 

To hold back the callousness
And injustice

As if I could create an army
With my words

To shield the vulnerable

To protect every single precious life.

What I wouldn’t give 

To go back to sleep

To crawl back inside that dream

To find the purpose in those shattered bits of bone
To weave this grief and this rage
Open and flowing

Into a sound like singing

this is not meant to be poetry this is just how the words come out

I wonder if cleaning your room is the best way to spend the last of your time here. 

If it’s better to clear the piles of dirty clothes from the closet floor

To methodically remove the layers of dust from the nightstand

Than it is to sink deep 

Into a poem 

If it is better to worry about what they will find under the bed
(used tissue, unused picture frames)
Than to worry about what they 

Won’t find

In the countless empty journals

(with the covers always too beautiful for your words to defile)

Is it better to empty the overflowing trash bin

Or to pour out a lifetime’s worth of 

Pent up words

Unleash what you spent years

Holding back Behind tight-pressed lips?