A Year of Seeing: July 29 “What can I do with this shit?”


What can I do with this shit?


Today, when my jaw was clinched so tight

for the umpteenth time that 

it hurt and my ears rang from 

the pressure that I carry right there in

that place where I try my best to keep

my face calm and project a facade of 

“I can handle all this.  I’m fine.”

As if what we are going through is

just like the late winter ice storms 

we had as children where we 

moaned because we had to sit next to

a fire with our families and pass the time.

For five days.  Can you imagine!

This is no minor inconvenience.

My jaw will tell you that, as will

the tears that well up in conversations

when the grief presses me down on the floor

like an annoying sibling that won’t 

get off my back.  

So will my heart break.  And yours.

Today, when my my body needed to do

something to help me ground and steady

my heart in the midst of the stupidity and

selfishness that swirls around us all,

I took three giant bags of composted cow shit,

planted flowers, and tended my pomegranate tree.

Perhaps the rudbeckia will benefit from this shit,

or the lantana.  I bet the gardenias will 

put it to good use in these days when I feel like

this shit has to go somewhere.

Some good has to come of it,

and I believe deep down that something in

my soul is sprouting in all this, taking root

and growing stronger in the dark places.

So, I will keep watching the flowers and hope.




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