![]() I also couldn’t believe what I was seeing and still can’t. I wanted this out a day early while we’re in transition in this country. I posted early and you responded early, Deborah. Sending you much love and light across the oceans and oaks between us, Deborah. Lastly, even though I live in the UK, tomorrow’s inauguration cannot come soon enough! ![]() As new snowdrops, tiny quince flowers and early daffodils caught my attention and reminded me of the glimmers of hope you talk about and how much we all need to hold on to them at the moment.Įvery January for as long as I can remember I’ve always dedicated it to poetry, I think this is how I’m surviving down here in my cosy rabbit hole surrounded by books and warm blankets. Walking in grief does bring our attention to the beauty of the world, be it just a glimpse. The sense of disgust and condemnation that these riots even took place and people died is world-wide. Tears flowed! Oh, how fragile and vulnerable we all are, like Aladin, I thought! John Lennon’s music and lyrics have come to mind often during these past 12 months.Īll last weekend I felt on tenterhooks, anticipating more rioting by the same angry mob, so my boots were also pulled on as we headed outdoors to seek sanctuary in nature. I just I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!Įspecially now as the world struggles with deadly and more dangerous second and third waves of the coronavirus. Watching those recent riots was absolutely heart-breaking! It felt surreal, like I was watching a movie or drama in complete shock, especially when I saw police officers … I repeat police officers … unlocking doors to let the angry mob in. Show us the way of peace even if we don’t deserve it. I lean into the massive trunk of a Red Oak and lay my head against her bark. Their massive trunks and sky-touching branches calm me. I walk under old trees protected by a conservation easement, knowing they’ll never be logged, even after I die. Small signs of life bring glimmers of hope while I grieve for the rage and betrayal that pollutes my country.ĭuring this agitated time, the forest is my chapel. This week, I walk with grief again, this time in bleak winter, but green moss thrives under the snow and water gurgles over icy rocks. I gave thanks for love and life, as I wept for what was gone. I noticed the beauty of every wildflower, butterfly, tree, and bird. When Vic died in June 2008, I walked with grief many times a day. The lyrics repeat in my head: “All we are saying is give peace a chance.” I go to my husband Vic’s cairn and pray. On January 7, still in a state of disbelief, I walk under the tallest oak trees in my forest. What will we do with images and proof we can no longer deny? How can I forget the Januimages of people climbing the US Capital walls carrying weapons and wrapped in American flags? Is this my country? Are we choosing this? Our history has been bloody and cruel from the beginning, but the Gates of Hell feel wide open now. About a dozen unarmed protestors got inside the Pentagon doors, but were swiftly arrested and removed. We were interested in peace, not violence-and we were afraid.īy the end of that day in 1967, 700 people were arrested for civil disobedience. ![]() Vic and I got a whiff of tear gas, but didn’t get close enough to feel the burn. We walked from the Lincoln Memorial to the Pentagon where young soldiers with guns stood at attention surrounding the buildings. I remembered a tense protest against the Vietnam War in Washington DC in October 1967. “ All we are saying is give peace a chance.” Capitol, breaking windows, and rampaging through halls and offices, I heard John Lennon’s lyrics repeat like a mantra in my head. After watching a video clip of armed people swarming the U.S. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |