Later today I go to a reception for an artist's show. It will likely be her last show, as she has pancreatic cancer. Earlier today, a smaller group of friends will celebrate my Hindu friend's 50th birthday. In the background of my brain, the constant backbeat of knowledge that one of my oldest friends has stage IV esophageal cancer.
My brain threatens to settle into an Ash Wednesday funk--I worry it will extend beyond Lent.
My brain flows have made me think of an earlier poem I wrote. I don't have as much time to write an essay today, so here's a poem for our Thursday. Does it capture a Lenten mood? Or is it better for the Easter season?
The Ides of April
must be paid. Both winter and summer battle
for dominance and rip the landscape
with tornadoes and late spring snows.
Good battles evil, captives set freeby way of forced and bloody frenzies. Refugees
driven from their homes trudge down dusty
roads towards a desert destiny of freedom.
A gospel of radical love battles entrenchedorthodoxy. We must sacrifice our lust
for structure and rules, our yearning
for punishment. We must arc our minds
towards grace and unconquered redemption.
We must be as flowers who battleagainst the frozen ground, who thrust
themselves towards a distant sun
in the hope of a future warmth,
a profuse explosion of fiery blooms.