It’s going to get bad yet
I prefer to keep my head out of the sand
gather my power around me like a shawl
which might be tattered and worn
and not particularly bright
but I know how to embroider
with bright thread
and I’m finding a fighter lives in my anxious heart
one who screams, “oh fuck no,
I won’t live in the box you are constructing”
I know it’s easier to sit in a dark room with a cup of tea
writing hate-grams to strangers saying
nasty words
but that’s not the change I have in mind
it’s funny but for the first time I wonder
if blue states should secede
begin again
watch the red ones burn it all down
perhaps separate like a marriage gone bad
well aware that divorce might be next
of course this isn’t a wise choice but
if I remember the end of my marriage
which certainly held anxiety and grief
freedom also crept in like the sunrise
and I understood the meaning of hope
again
cry, rage, let it out but
don’t put your shawl in the
give away pile
wrap yourself in it while you
sit in a dark room, the warmth of
your mug against your chest
understand that this expression
of grief is something
that will move you to the drawer on your nightstand
the one
with your brightly colored threads
light leaking out now begging your attention
your power growing
wrap yourself in the warmth because when you are ready
you will be needed
there is work to be done.
©Robin Enright Salcido
