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
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
someone else to tell you,
Yes, you too can bear this.