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(originally published on invocations.blog)
So much is out of our control
who moves in next door
who doesn’t clean up
after their dog
on the sidewalk
in front of
your house
When the bus finally arrives
Whether the check
is in the mail
How your boss
behaves
How anyone
behaves
Who lets you in when
you’re trying to
turn left out of your
neighborhood onto
Columbia Pike
Who stops when
you’re trying to
cross the street
Who is having a bad day
and takes it out
on you
who holds
the door open for you and
all the kids you’ve brought along
and smiles and doesn’t seem to mind
that they are oblivious to the fact of the door
How viruses mutate
whether the nurse assigned to your room
has ever taken care of a patient like you before
Whether the people in charge of your country
decide to start a war
against another country or
against you
Whether someone who looks like you–even a little bit
commits a crime
What DNA you inherit
What your mother did
or did not do while you were
becoming human
Whether she brought you
into the world with joy
or despair
Whether you get put in the class
of a kind kindergarten teacher
or one who should have
already retired or found
another steelier line of work
So much is out of our control
it is a miracle that we find
at the end of the day that
a single thing we set out to do
has been done
A testament
to our optimistic persistence
that we write out
yet another to do list
naively determined to try again
even though
so much is out of our control
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(originally published on invocations.blog)
My main skill
on the soccer field
is getting in people’s way
Also I can cheer
I am not fast
No matter how many
games I play
or watch
I cannot see
what needs to happen
beyond my need to kick
the ball away from me
toward someone who will
know better than I do
what to do with it
Nothing that happens
on a field
or with a ball
or on a court
or in a pool
or on a track
or on a mat
comes easily to me
This is not to say I am weak
because I AM strong
I can be fierce
and determined
and endure
but it is
never
ever
easy
I watch my teammates
sprint toward the ball
maneuver around our opponents
boot the ball gloriously
through the air
with what seems
to me like
no effort at all
I hear them talk about the other team’s
offense and defense
and which players
are the ones
to watch
“All we need to do is…”
they explain
on the sidelines
but I don’t
really
understand
still I will jog onto the field
and see who I need to
get in the way of
when she has the ball
and maybe steal the ball
if i’m lucky
and pass it
and cheer loudly
for whoever
takes it down the field
to score
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We are the broken branches,
splintered by the wind
We are the thousand twigs
scattered across the yard
We are the enormous, unshakeable oak
—apparently we are actually shakeable—
that boomed to the ground, just barely missing the house
Uprooted
leaving a chasm of earth
displacing those who depend on us to live
We are the bird that picks up those twigs to build a new nest
We are the squirrel that finds acorns revealed by the fallen oak
We are the ancient elm propelled by the storm onto a car
Shattering the windshield, crumpling the roof
(we are also the car)
We are the friends who came and cut up the tree
While we were working a weekend shift at our second job
We are the firewood shared with neighbors and the warmth it provides
We are slices of elm for playgrounds and pathways
We are the people who walk or jump across them
We are the wind
We are the calm after the wind subsides
Betsy Rosenblatt Rosso
March 10, 2018
