What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep…

T

Breathe in deep and close your eyes, even though it is frightening to do so on this day you never know what images will show but you have good idea what will come if you let it, slow down your breath now and wipe your eyes, but don’t shy away just because you don’t understand, that’s why these fingers move like they do over the keys that’s why the pen brushes the page, to try to understand I don’t know much but I know that I don’t know much and so I can’t say anything coherent about what happened yesterday only that it makes my whole body sag my stomach ache my brain becomes an electric box and if I remove my finger from the dam, I drown for the children and for fellow teachers and won’t stop there because even today as it rains there are children on the streets of Indianapolis and Rivne and Denver and San Diego and Prague and D.C. and Chicago and Kyiv and everywhere there are children who don’t have a chance at life whether its big loss or small tragedies mounting to overshadow the sun and what grows well in shadow? I need to force my face close to the red iron and keep typing though I know this is such a self-centered post so far and even that is self-indulgent that line I just wrote and this one but all I know for real is my self and I feel so helpless though not hopeless because I know that we are all broken and that these acts of hate and madness will continue as long as humans are here but I also know that we can choose good and right, love and hope, and give out at least a little shot in the arm, an antidote to anyone we meet. We can dedicate our small lives to the grandest ideals not in the hope of mattering but rather in the hope of hope itself that if mothers have to cry and people and their countries have to fight because that is just the way of things, we can be there to give hugs, dry tears, bandage wounds of body and soul. The cliche siren is blaring in my skull, but that’s okay. In times of trouble, we fall back on the truths that have always been there for us, and those may sound like cliches but that doesn’t make them any less true. And besides, my eyes are closed so I don’t see them any way, seeing is beleaguered,  breathe in deep again in my exchange with the trees, in and out inside me, me inside, in and out inside the tree in and out in and out in and out to regain the frame of mind that won’t be nailed together, won’t get stuck back together, stuffed into shape, won’t be shoved into a box unless it’s electrified and that only makes the whole world seem stiff and gritting…
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail with peace on Earth, good will toward men…
@c

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What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

About Andrew.

Andrew Cartwright grew up in Indianapolis, IN, but has lived over the years in such places as Denver, CO; Fairfax, VA; and Rivne, Ukraine. He is a former nonfiction editor for both Indiana Review and phoebe; he has also worked for the intersectional feminist journal, So To Speak, and the national literary magazine, Electric Literature. His work has appeared in The Normal School Online, Copper Nickel, Esquire Ukraine, Literary Hub, and Word Riot.

For more information about me and links to other writing, visit my author page at cartwriter.com

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