windows of my darkened house.
snow this morning would have been
a way to let new brightness in,
but not to be--there's only frost,
and no delay. all is lost.
today I start to say goodbye
to years of certain going high,
to neighbors I could trust to be,
however different, just like me.
this morning optimism fails
and easy hope goes off the rails.
I sign, I share, I think of writing,
I think of fires I should be lighting--
the wall is tall.
I don't feel Tillie.
my soul is small
and willy nilly
looking for a place to hide
from come what may.
I can't decide.
fair weather friend is what I am.
farewell, sir. farewell, ma'am.
you led with grace. you led with art.
hello, winter of my heart.
(c) HM 2017
Saturday Morning Addenda:
Thank you, friends, for your compassionate responses. Friday morning improved with the addition of some optimistic-sounding music played loud in my empty classroom, followed by Poetry Friday (when Angel's coral reef poem began with "its a whole new world it looks like galaxys" all came right with the future). I also have reason to believe that these moments of despair and depression mean I am staying "woke."
Here are a couple of articles that speak to what I'm feeling (and if the state of your own soul is fragile, consider waiting to read until you're feeling stronger).
A Society Too Complex for Its People
We Are All Stepping Into a Broken Future