how we cope

how we cope

we make shit

we look at what is in our hands

and how we can form it into a useful or a beautiful or

a meaningful thing

a song or poem or a prayer

a loaf of bread

a shrine, or new curtains –

what ever it is – to shore up the bulkhead against destruction.

sometimes we fail and

our efforts fall short

and the sandbags we have placed in a wall to hold back the tide

are overtaken

and then we calculate our losses

or maybe we have even lost our abacus

or our compass

and we pile the detritus up in pyres on the curb or

or bury it

trying not to let the sorrow swallow us whole

or hoping it will

and it becomes a part of our new creation.

this is the thread that we are all seeking to bind us in hope

it is the thread of transformation

it is our only hope

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