I Googled
distance from (my hometown) to Gaza (5,412 miles)
secondhand trauma (“the emotional duress that results when an individual hears about the firsthand trauma experiences of another”)
distance from (my address) to (last night’s shooting) (30 minutes)
mass shooting (there is no exact number of losses that define it)
and found my heart in the same place I’d left it.
Hello poet,
I would like to write you about joyful things today, but that is not where my heart is. I’m feeling generally gutted by current events, as I imagine many of us are. So today, I’d like to carve out a small space for joy, or hope, or something along those lines…
Share your joy or something good in the comments, however small or large.
What goodness is unfolding in your garden, in your kitchen, in your family, in your home?
What adorable, oddball, hilarious, goofy, compassionate, kind thing has your child or a child you know done recently that lightened your heart, made you smile, had you laughing, feeling more compassionate yourself, or something along those lines?
What are you reading or writing or painting for the fun of it? What song draws you to the dancefloor?
There is work to be done on all fronts. I'm doing what I can as I'm able. And in the interim of these doings - these phone calls and messages and check ins and emails and petitions researched & signed - I would love to read of your joy.
Yesterday, Lore went outside to say hello to the sun and was tickled to find the birds waking along with it. Just as the sun peeked through the trees, a chorus began, and Lore attempted her best whistle in an attempt to join in. A joyful chorus, if ever I've heard one. A relief to my ears. A balm for the ache.
I look forward to reading about what’s good in your world <3
Until next week,
yours in poetry,
Kat
Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Except the rain let up, and I took a walk with my children to buy more stamps to mail out my first chapbook. The two currents of my life flowing into one river.
Beautifully, heartbreakingly put, Kat. Thank you for the call for joy. I’ve been holding onto the joy I felt in Maine earlier in the week, which is an odd kind of heartache now. But still the joy is still there. Pine, ocean, smooth rocks, close encounters with animal kin, cheerful voices bouncing off the high ceiling of Chase’s Daily, new friends (who are thankfully safe).