Solitude in January

Part of me thinks that it’s unconscionably self-indulgent to write poetry when the world is on fire… but a bigger part of me knows that keeping such things alive — poetry, art, music, telling people you love them, simple kindness and decency, checking on your community — makes all the difference.

Kindness, creativity, and empathy without the promise of financial gain seem to be things that MAGA conservatives have absolutely no ability to understand, and they are our strength.

So, with that in mind, here is something I wrote this week. It is still in draft form but I wanted to share it anyway.

Solitude in January

I.
Early winter morning, wool socks
Slate grey sky, half-closed eyes
Raindrops swell and plink from the tips of firs
Coffee brewing, fragrant spritz of a peeled orange
Rinse and load, quiet quiet, get the milk
Sharpen my pencil, chair by the window, wrap in a blanket, warm
Fuzzy thoughts, fizzy, write a few ripe and heavy lines to the muse
Refill, repeat
Slate lightens, shoes tied, run uphill until it hurts
Shower and linger in the steam, trace my ribs, hear my own breathing
Tug, zip, smooth, brush, close my eyes, sigh
Fix my face with a smile to face the day

II.
Hand on the doorknob, paused
A clank of fork against china floats upstairs
A lively voice, a confused voice, coffee and bacon
Can’t move, don’t want to, hand still on the doorknob
How much solitude will be enough?
When does alone end and lonely begin?
Why haven’t I found the line yet?

III.
Back to the job, hold it together
Greet with enthusiasm, un petit bisou
Sit with discomfort, let him find his words or not
Don’t break, don’t be sad, don’t show a tear
Don’t ponder heredity, don’t feel guilt, don’t feel
Get him through to evening with a full belly
A weather report, a livestock in the road report
News of the smoke in the hills
A trip to the mailbox, a laugh or two if we’re lucky
And take a photo of the last good day because one never knows

IV.
Disintegrating neurons drag his PhD brain toward silence
Towards sundown, towards full time solitude
Meanwhile, solitude is all I want
Someday, will I get what I deserve?
Say goodnight, shut the door, strip to a t-shirt, wash up
Breathe in and out and in again, repeat
Try to sleep through to early morning, slate grey sky and coffee
And start again