Somewhere Under the Rainbow

The strange Muse for the poem below was the swirling turmoil in our nation: police brutality, racial and gender injustice, purging Confederate monuments, global climate change, social distancing — all seem to be at a boiling point in the midst of an anxiety-provoking pandemic. One friend remarked that coronavirus/COVID-19 brings out the best in large-hearted people and the worst in small-minded people. Another observed that the current issues have been there all along, simmering with the erosion of cultural ethics and the crescendo of economic polarization. For me, with or without facemasks, protests and rallies, I savor small daily connections with friends and strangers alike. Such droplets of grace are stillness in a tumbling world, reminders that we have not lost what sustains fundamental hope. “Somewhere Under the Rainbow” springs from my gratitude for today’s hugs, be they in the flesh or virtual.

Somewhere Under the Rainbow

Cross your fingers when you
Cross your cultures.
The ess curves and
Danger falling rocks
Stem from earlier damage.

Teeth set on edge?
Your jaw drops when
Wisdom waves at your eyecorner
Wearing warpaint.
Maybe revlon is its equal.

Maybe armani eclipses quillwork,
Maybe epistemology and betrayal
Have armored our neurons beyond recognition.
Our pathways? Myths.
Yet technology

And the holy ones
Sometimes oh just sometimes
Make a bridge
And the crossing of it
Is silence.
Feel the hug. Amen.

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