Reclaiming our heart in an ocean of noise

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.