It is not that I don’t think about evil—
I do. Often.
It is more that I will not let it have the last word.
Horrible things happen
in every part of this world
every day, and
if I allowed myself to feel all the pain there is
I would be paralyzed
and that would do no one
any good
at all.
So I choose a different way.
I know I cannot solve everything—
save the children from sexual slavery
get clean water to every person
remove all the plastic from the oceans
and somehow get rid of this strutting emperor
who dismisses reports of his nakedness
as fake news
while inciting acts so heinous
that we will be ashamed for generations to come—
and it is not that I do not feel angry.
It is more that
I prefer to think about the way,
every spring, even in dry years,
the bright poppies bloom
on the green hills
under the blue sky,
and the shore birds fly up
in vast murmurations,
flashing first white and then gray
and then silver
in the shafts of sunlight
that pierce the soft spring clouds.
It is more that
I prefer to think about the way
the children are rising up in the streets
to remind their elders of their proper work
which is not to sit and wring our hands
and feel helpless,
but to act
and to create
new ways of doing everything.
Life is more powerful than evil
and we are part of it
and must act on our own behalf.
“No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless,”
said Dorothy Day,
“There is too much work to do.”
Think of how much work it is
and how hard
for a baby bird to hatch from an egg;
Think of how much work it is
and how hard
for a tree to grow through a boulder;
And yet they do it all the time.
If the flowers can bloom
and the children can rise up
If the birds can hatch and then they can fly
and if trees can grow through stone
then, certainly—
certainly!—
we have the strength
to overcome evil.
To outgrow it,
to create something different
and more interesting.
Let us hatch
and let us fly
and let us grow
and let us bloom
and together let us
create something beautiful
and new.
Sometimes despair creeps in during the night and I wake to a world from which all hope and possibility have vanished. It feels as if the sky is roiling with clouds that blot out all light. At those times I long to pray to the God of my childhood, that omnipotent deity who could make everything better if only He chose, if only enough of us prayed hard enough to move His heart. I long to say, “Dear God in Heaven, help us. Won’t you help us, please, our world is coming apart. The people in power have something wrong with them and they are destroying everything.”
Decades from now
If you notice one thing, notice this:
Great Spirit of Life:
Spirit of life, you who body forth
For weeks the rain has been falling