The last post I started but never completed began with the idea that I should stand on my front stoop and scream “TIME OUT!!!!” as loudly as I could in response to various arguments on social media over various topics.
But I didn’t stand on my stoop yelling like a crazy person. Nor did I finish the post. One, because nobody beyond a couple of neighbors probably would’ve heard me- and let’s be honest– they probably wouldn’t have thought much of it since I’m always doing weird stuff out in front of my house. And two, there’s already so much noise. There’s all the noise right now. It’s a tsunami of noise. I would’ve stood up in front of it demanding it quiet, and it would’ve just crashed over on top of me, as it’s been doing for months. I don’t want to be more noise in the ocean of noise.
We watched “Moana” with the girls a couple weeks ago. You know that scene at the end when Moana walks up to Te Ka- that writhing, bitter, enraged lava monster- and restores her heart? We are that lava monster right now. The collective we. This gasping, growling, ravenous beast.
How on Earth do we reclaim our heart?
I’ve been grappling with this question. With no answer. Today I had some quiet time (time! beautiful, glorious, precious, quiet time!) to sit and write. And this poem is what visited.
“A Mother in a Moment of Silence While the Baby Naps” The only sound Currently Is the noise machine in the baby’s room Broadcasting through the baby monitor A ceaseless sigh of static swirling into itself and away So as to block out The dog barking At the mailman rumbling past And the men hammering shingles On the house a few doors away The clunk of a car door being shut And the quick beeps of the car doors being locked The roll of the office chair across the wooden floor upstairs The fan blades clicking The clatter of fresh ice in the ice machine The long sigh of the refrigerator. The groan of the air conditioner The Dad on his conference call It’s deceptive The quiet inside this house It’s a riot inside This house of Mine– This vessel of heart and lung and brain– Is a noise machine A ceaseless sigh of static swirling into itself and away Trying to block out The ripples of Panic Despair Fatigue That we are still in this house Months and months into a pandemic But sometimes stepping out of it And is it right or wrong To leave? We are still all these bodies squeezed together Breathing this stale air Fighting over the tight corners For room to be I wage mental battles Over how to ensure That all our needs are met The first child The second child The third child The husband The dog The cats The sisters The parents The friends The cousins The rest I wage mental battles Over how to ensure That everyone Every one. EVERY HUMAN White Brown Black Man Woman Child And all the nouns and pronouns in between Has the right to breathe Free On this Earth. This one Earth we share. This quiet blue marble Floating in the vacuum of space. This Earth has gotten warmer It’s stifling. It’s suffocating outside. Our worlds’ have contracted inside Confined us to our living rooms and bedrooms and bathrooms Our worlds’ have expanded inside Our devices Which are so divisive They roar at us To pick a side So that We are at war With one another Over Masks And school And Black lives And blue lives And past atrocities And future elections And what the truth is And whether the truth is Anymore Anywhere We’re all so full of hot air It erupts across the digital universe And collides with the physical universe Into a mushroom cloud Of white noise The swirling static Wrapping Nooses around Our humanity Strangling Every last Molecule of oxygen Out of Every last One of us More ruthless than The virus Because it preys Upon our inability To just sit In silence Beside One another Our breath The only sound.