day THREE HUNDRED and SEVENTY ONE

Bear

What you have learned

is how to bear it.

How to shift and move with it.

How to stop and see the sky

lit up, the moon seemingly so close

that you could reach right out and pluck it from the sky

hold it in your hands, slip it under your tongue.

The way the winter freezes everything into a stillness

the way you know the spring will come back

the slightest bud finding a way

tunneling through the dark

to unfurl in the light

the way life finds a way

the way you can bear it

the sadness and grief

and pain

a stone you move from hip to hip

the way you think you’ll be broken

the way the news comes in wave after wave

the way you shake your head

and dig in, trying to bail out this sinking boat of a nation.

Fathers torn from their families, plucked like a blossom

and packaged away.

Do not look away.

Learn to bear it.

Just like when you wake in the night

feeling the passage of time

knowing that you only have so many days

that you only have so much time.

You reach out, fingers sliding over sheets

praying that they will fall upon another body

another voice

someone else to tell you,

Yes, you too can bear this.

 --Ally Malinenko