A Poem For A Monday

A Final Affection
Paul Zimmer

I love the accomplishments of trees,
How they try to restrain great storms
And pacify the very worms that eat them.
Even their deaths seem to be considered.
I fear for trees, loving them so much.
I am nervous about each scar on bark,
Each leaf that browns. I want to
Lie in their crotches and sigh,
Whisper of sun and rains to come.

Sometimes on summer evenings I step
Out of my house to look at trees
Propping darkness up to silence.

When I die I want to slant up
Through those trunks so slowly
I will see each rib of bark, each whorl;
Up through the canopy, the subtle veins
And lobes touching me with final affection;
Then to hover above and look down
One last time on the rich upliftings,
The circle that loves the sun and moon,
To see at last what held the darkness up.

Rough Week

I don't know where to start. Monday (and since) were tough here in Boston. Nothing happened to me or anyone I know, thank goodness, but I don't think this tragedy stops with those who are directly impacted. We only have our own lenses through which to view an incident like this. Whether we know someone affected physically or we are personally affected by the incredible range of emotion that overtakes us in times like these, we each have our story and our way in which we unravel it and slowly begin to deal.

A co-worker's boyfriend was running in the race. Before the explosions, he was aways out, so my co-worker decided to stay at the bar and enjoy another drink before making her way to the finish line grandstand with her VIP access pass. She was a few blocks away when the bombs went off. She believes that, without that beer, she would've been there. She can't talk about it and isn't reading about it, looking at information, or pondering aloud with the rest of us. Her perspective is clearly different than my own, which included a spotty cell phone call from Simon explaining what was happening and that he had to walk from the Sox game into Cambridge since the trains were halted. I felt uncertainty in that moment as well as the immediate need to be with him. In another example, some of Simon's colleagues who work a block away from one of the bomb sites have to brush shoulders with incredible armed military presence at the subway stop, pass debris-littered Boylston Street on their way into the building, and look over the site from their office windows. They can't escape it and many of them have responded with fear.

The range of feeling, emotion and reaction is vast. For me, in the time since this happened, I've experienced anger, fear, vulnerability, disbelief and absolute belief, sadness and guilt.

I'm angry that someone somewhere could hurt people, kill people, and change our reality. I'm also angry that this kind of thing happens every single day in a multitude of places around the world and yet it occurring here is shocking. Not just shocking to us, but shocking to those very places where bombs are commonplace. Why? How is that fair?

I'm scared. Scared that it could happen to me, scared that it could happen to people I love. And scared for none of those reasons. Just scared. It sure makes you feel vulnerable real fast on both a human body level and an emotional level. This messes with us, as it is intended to do, and that makes me feel emotionally vulnerable and also naively shocked that our bodies can be intruded in such a way. How silly of me to imagine we are not capable of being so damaged.

"How could someone do this?" is one of the first thoughts that entered my mind and right behind it was "Of course someone could do this." Disbelief and belief and the utter sadness in that belief. This is our world. People hate each other and people believe in that hatred enough to act on it in ways that we deem terrible and they deem as worthwhile to their passion, cause, and deep-rooted beliefs. I have no idea who did this and what they believe but I believe they think they did the right thing. Perhaps that is the saddest thing of all.

I don't really know where to go from here, where any of the victims go from here, where Boston goes from here, where our country goes from here and where humanity goes from here. But I know I need to take time with this and recognize that perhaps I may never arrive at a place of understanding.

A Poem For A Monday

The Undeniable Pressure of Existence
Patricia Fargnoli

I saw the fox running by the side of the road
past the turned-away brick faces of the condominiums
past the Citgo gas station with its line of cars and trucks
and he ran, limping, gaunt, matted dull haired
past Jim's Pizza, past the Wash-O-Mat,
past the Thai Garden, his sides heaving like bellows
and he kept running to where the interstate
crossed the state road and he reached it and he ran on
under the underpass and beyond it past the perfect
rows of split-levels, their identical driveways
their brookless and forestless front yards,
and from my moving car, I watched him,
helpless to do anything to help him, certain he was beyond
any aid, any desire to save him, and he ran loping on,
far out of his element, sick, panting, starving,
his eyes fixed on some point ahead of him,
some possible salvation
in all this hopelessness, that only he could see.


I have a serious crush on this poem. It is absolutely one of the best things I have read of late. As usual, I will disclaimer here that I almost certainly will be unable to articulate why. But I am struck by its central image--a little fox literally on his last legs running like he has this purpose, this drive that will take him beyond all the crap. I'm sure the fox could be any of us--exhausted by the hopelessness that we've created in our little suburban worlds, but somehow determined to find something better, no matter what it takes to get there even though there could be nonexistent. Or perhaps it is existent but it is the end of existence.

Eeeee. I don't know but this poem is real and scary but also perfect. I love it.

True To Its Roots

When I launched this blog (that makes it sound like some kind of grand opening with those arm-waving blow-up things that go nuts on sidewalks) I wanted to explore the non-existent intersections between two of my favorite things: Merwin and um, Merwin. These days, I rarely post about one or the other and haven't melded the two lately, so I will rather deftly, subtly and not-at-all literally bring them together below. HA!

April
W.S. Merwin

When we have gone the stone will stop singing

April April
Sinks through the sand of names

Days to come
With no stars hidden in them

You that can wait being there

You that lose nothing
Know nothing

Meet Mr. and Mrs. Rogers!

What a fantastic weekend celebrating the nuptials of Anthony and Melissa! Simon's bestest friend (well, his "close friend") tied the knot with the absolute perfectest woman, Melissa, Saturday in Rhode Island and it was a celebratory weekend of love and fun. Really feeling lucky to know such wonderful humans and looking forward to being part of their relationship for years to come.

Here are some of my most "photojournalistic" shots of the weekend beginning with the Groom's wedding day prep, including a rousing game of Wizard, a special surprise "Groom's Survival Kit" from his fiancee, and some tender moments with the Best Man.

Then we set off for the Church to get the party started.

Onto the gorgeous Colonel Blackington Inn for a delicious dinner (chicken parm), followed by seriously the best cake I have ever had and some lovely toasting by Melissa's brother and Simon. Huge congratulations to the new Mr. and Mrs. Rogers and major thanks for such a lovely celebration!!

Live Free or Die

Early last week, Simon and I realized that we were craving a getaway. Usually, we try to do some weekend trips or mini-jaunts to get through the winter, but with most of our vacation days allocated to our blockbuster summer trip to Alaska, we've been sticking close to home. But lucky for us, Simon's mom was in town and willing to watch Merwin, so we booked a last minute trip into the White Mountains of New Hampshire this past weekend. Escaping is a beautiful thing and it was a lovely two days away!

Saturday seemed to bring the first real day of spring, even at higher elevation, and we took full advantage, trekking to two waterfalls relatively close to the Inn. "Diana's Bath" involved a bit of a "hike" which normally wouldn't have been a challenge but being the dopes we are, we sort of forgot that much of the wooded mountain areas would still be covered with snow. So we were clad in our sneakers which wasn't so convenient on the icy paths, but we made it, and it was worth the slipping and sliding! I thought it would be tough to beat, but Jackson Falls was even more lovely, and we took a brief nap on a flat rock jutting out over the water. Heavenly for the tail end of March.

I know it sounds cliche, but being in nature really makes me happy. I forget how much I need it and how for me, it really is one of the few ways I can truly relax.

Need a Thursday Boost?

Today has been slow and blue and when that's the case, I often need a quick dose of cheer. Usually, this comes in the form of a fur ball frantically wagging his tail, squealing, and running laps around the house when I open the front door. Today I can't wait until 6pm and have compiled a little Thursday cuteness.

A Poem for A Sort-Of Anniversary

Marriage
Lawrence Raab

Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
                               What if
I hadn't phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you'd been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
                       Then she tells him a secret.
She'd been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn't answered.
                            Because she felt--
because she was certain--her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
of you.
            I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
                          the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.

The Facebook Detox Challenge

I have to try to take a pause from Facebook. This will be difficult because I utilize it as a quick, lickety-split procrastination tool while at work (shh, don't tell). It's the perfect break between tasks or 30-45 second pause when I need to refocus. But I'm quickly learning that it's not perfect and I need to experiment with a break-up. Why?

Well, I continuously use others as a gauge for myself. To some extent, I realize that it's impossible not to do this and that we are programmed to do this our whole lives. From the minute we are born at x weight and start talking at x months even though little Suzy started talking at x-3 months, it's always about comparison. While I absolutely treasure my many years spent in a dance studio, I realize that these years of looking in the mirror and seeing legs higher than mine, toes pointed better than mine, and pirouettes turning faster than mine meant that I was never looking at me for me.

For me, Facebook is today's mirror. I wish that I could embrace the status updates and photos of remote vacations and fresh babies and home purchases as just updates, but instead my brain says "why am I not traveling to Kazakhstan, birthing 22 children and buying a brick split-level on a cul-de-sac?" Now this is where it's complicated because I don't actually want those things. But Facebook, and I suppose society, are trying to tell me I do. Until I'm stronger and can embrace that maybe I don't, I'm going to take a break.

Hockey Hysteria

I have it. I guess the abbreviated season has created a shorter, more intense period of obsession for me. This hysteria manifests itself in a few ways:

• My fantasy hockey league. I participated in my first league in 2003, being provided with a team to fill out the league's roster, then shocking the others with a third place finish. This actually created my hockey love and every season since, I've participated in fantasy hockey (wow, tenth anniversary I suppose). I am terrible at it. My team's name is the Merwinners. I mean, c'mon. 
• Purchasing the NHL Gamecenter Live package, enabling me to watch EVERY Rangers game through the xbox game system, complete with the Rangers' commentators, intermission reports, and player interviews. Dear me oh my. This is an amazing resource to feed the disease.
• Anger, physical violence, and depression when the losses happen. And let me tell you, they've been coming in droves this year. I haven't figured out a way to maturely deal with the inevitable downside of being an obsessive fan yet.
• Clothing and accessories. I only own two Rangers shirts, but I also have a ridiculously oversized "true blue" jersey and a baseball cap. And I am "this close" to buying these items: 

(I'm serious about wanting everything except the wedges. Rangers shoes!? With heels?! And Swarovski crystals?! WHAT?!)

I don't really know how this happened to me or why I love it so much but I don't really care. It's fun, it's great, and usually, the only thing that suffers are the couch cushions that I punch when the boneheads make a boneheaded play. LGR!!!!!