A poem from this week.
My family and I are in self-isolation in a little house on a beach in southern Thailand. We are now the last people left in our complex, which makes distance very easy, from the rest of the world, if not from each other, ha ha. But we’re doing well, all nine of us.
I appreciate this time, even as thoughts and emotions swirl. I don’t take it for granted that I get to spend this time with my parents, or that I have all five kids here, or that we can isolate. Considering how sick my mom was with the flu in January, we really appreciate being in a place where she can be safe, away from pollution and away from others.
Singing together, practicing instruments, all the crazy conversations we have, meals every evening, coin laundry, walks on the beach. It is not a bad way to isolate. And yet so much has changed and it is hard to take it all in. Our life is normally made of social gatherings. We do things in community. So this is really different. It is weird to see travelers or local people and not go talk to them.
This virus might also be described as the first thing ever in life to make Rae care about germs. I find myself disinfecting things or using hand sanitizer religiously and think, “who even am I anymore?”
Thailand is now in a State of Emergency, with curfews and travel restrictions, and we are waiting it out. It may be an epic trip north in the Millennium Falcon, come April 9.
I have been reading World Whisperer Live on Instagram every day and loving it. It feels like community. It’s every day at 7:00 pm PST or 9:00 am Bangkok time. You can follow me and then find me live at the top of your stories.
I find it good to check in with a daily practice of fiexperience, so I have begun writing a poem every day, sharing with my patrons at Patreon. I’ve been thinking about writing daily poetry for a while now—short, imperfect poems that form an experience and a body of work. This is the perfect thing to kick it all off.
If you like, you can join in at Patreon. Big shout out to new patrons, Sarah and Wenda. I appreciate it so much. Your patronage helps support an artist and family during an insecure time.
Here is one of the poems from this week:
i walked down to the sea
in the heat of the day
and waded into the ocean with
as much dignity as I could manage
with the waves pushing me this way and that.
the water was warm,
and kind,
not quite turquoise, but something close
something softer
filling the eyes and the heart
its sound a rhythm like breathing,
leading to a long, clean line on the horizon.
i shouted words.
“pandemic!” i shouted. “COVID!
lockdown! medical certificate! quarantine!”
i dug deeper. “economy! death!”
the sea didn’t change,
no matter how many words i shouted
it was calm and impervious, unchanging,
which was a hard kind of relief.
but i felt a soft listening
a quiet love
an aching sorrow
from somewhere deeper
something higher and wider and more expansive
than even the ocean.
***
Also Journey Mama Instagram, or the Painted Stork Instagram.