Today, I need to visit schools, prep for an insane week ahead, and grade once again. Much to do in little time. I also want to build a new book shelf, but that is another story for another day.
Also woke up yesterday to no water. Pipe break downtown I guess, so we were out for the day. When it finally came back on it make horrendous noises and shared two minutes of rusty water. The joys of home ownership. My first reaction was to run down the basement stairs to make sure it wasn't a burst in my own house. That would have sucked. Everything worked out and the evening class was a success, too. Now, onto the Thursday agenda.
It’s All Good
b.r.crandall
In habit I say, It’s all good,
but I know the poets see me,
ask their questions with spirited spit-fire…
the what-abouts - the nuclear codes,
that thing about global warming,
the gasoline, hangnails, anxiety —
all the ways we make
being human illegal &
their preference for blaming
the brown, the foreign,
the poor with historical
narratives they tell themselves.
This morning, another round
of excuses arrived, actually.
Aneurysms, assessment-eating
canines, molars with too much
wisdom. Youth, being wasted
on the young. The privileged.
It is what it is.
Still, there’s hope in wheels with meals,
deliveries of satiated survival,
to sustain another day.
empathy. care. kindness. love.
Actions speak louder than words
& I’ve learned to Shout from Laurie —
it’s an upstate NY thing.
Just Inhale. Exhale. Write.
It’s all good.
It has to be.
Because I’m back in Connecticut.
There’s so much work to be done.
