Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Saturday, April 20, 2013

R is for Relief . . .


The cherry blossoms on the tree outside my window
are just ready to open, the pink petals poke through green;
I am relieved for it has been a long, long winter.
Sometimes I sense the whole earth rising into another round
as it spins forward on a journey no one quite understands,
maybe god-driven, maybe an accident of molecules.
No matter. This year, many have suffered,
and we have suffered with them,
fueled by newspaper headlines and our own tragedies.
I can’t say we are indomitable because we all
face down dark moments. Some few act out in violence,
that Shiva-splintering, limb-tearing, death-reeling moment
that destroys the universe we hold within our own awareness.
But this morning’s newspaper speaks of celebration;
I will sink into meditation, grateful again
for all those who act out of goodness,
true to some moral code,
some awareness that our hearts beat as one;
even for the most anonymous among us.

Last night in Boston, a neighbor looked under a boat cover to discover hiding there the man the police sought. That neighbor called the police, and this morning we celebrate an end to the blockade, the lock-down, the door-to-door, the invasion of everyday life the police made to end the terror. But the neighbor could have cowered in his house, could have refused to act upon what he learned. He also could have helped that blood-covered man. But he chose to call the police, though he must have been terrified. At times in our lives, we are required to look directly at danger and to choose. We may choose out of a sense of obligation or a love for others, but our choices then shape all else. May we always choose for the good.