I’m determined to write a less angry and grief-wild poem tonight. Lorie would want that. One of the more selfish and crass thoughts I had today was that she won’t read the rest of my poems this year, and she read them every day, and I depended on that. I really, deeply care about what you all have to say about these words, but I care the most what my dear heartsong friends out there think. My love goes straight to you, and you know, I hope, who you are, tonight.
One great thing about where I work is the way we come together in times of great need. It was hard, so hard, to go back there today and see her office, and the tribute on the hearth to them both, and to feel them, just, everywhere. But it was also a day of great love, and I truly believe that it is a good lesson for our students to see the adults they normally view as “in charge” just completely break down uncontrollably, which I did about seventeen times today.
It was our Harvest Dinner tonight, which was planned and executed by my amazingly and annoyingly talented brother and our supremely awesome garden instructor, and it was unbelievable. We moved the tables outside, and ate all the fruits of many labors, and it was perfect. It felt right, to be there. HP brought the Ds to work so we could all stick together–and also tonight was HP’s birthday, which he has called “his saddest birthday ever”, but it felt right and good to be there today. Then we had a bonfire with s’mores and songs, at which I totally lost it, like, crying with snot running down my face, and my students put their arms around me and held me and that comfort was…it was just beautiful.
So, I’m going to write a poem that isn’t all rage and why, but hopes to put some of the beauty of Lorie’s smile and Brian’s gregariousness back into the world of us left here waiting for something to make sense.
It’s Going To Take A Lot of Love
On this night, looking up, I understand the wishes of my ancestors, to look up and find theirs there. Which ones are you? The brightest, and closest together, of course. I can pick you out from way down here. I can hear your voice, my heartsong friend, laughing at me as I bawl in every corner of this school. Why are you crying, you dummy? That is what I hear, but I can’t help but feel the hole, in every note in my box–I’m saving them–every sign hung up in the aerie–if anyone touches those I’ll punch them–if anyone moves anything with any trace of you in it I will scream until they put it down. If only you could know how much we miss you now. Know that the dogs are okay. If there is a you around to know things, the animals are being taken care of, and the dogs are staying together. If you are a star, and he is one too, and you are close together up where the lightyears count, look down on us and know that the animals are okay, and, okay, laugh at us in our wild and snotty grief, snicker at us because we hear it already in our hearts, in your voices, because we can’t get those out, and we don’t ever want to.
It’s going to take a lot of love to get us through.