Beehive morning

Cold, gray, wet

Remembering stars still spinning

Dreams in deadlock

I just can’t recall the colors or the shapes

Somehow something about my mother again

And her crucifixion for an innocent life

Cold coffee on the desk

Cold air through the window

Cold skin

Cold bones

Wife sleeping in the background

We churn out our days in nervousness, laughter, silence, love…

I have to scratch in the gravel for joy sometimes when the outside world comes creeping in. Now, more than ever, I feel like I have to look away just to preserve my own sanity. What has become of us? Hate. Greed. Selfishness. Racism. Bigotry. Violence. Environmental destruction. The stepping on the throats of women. The stepping on the throats of the sick and the poor and the disabled. They cheer for all this alongside their god. I can’t make any sense of it. Why does so-called humanity willfully choose the hurting of others? It’s a sick world. I often think it’s hell after all.

But my wife and I have chosen to get through it tightly knit together. To wrap ourselves up in our own love, our own little world. To save each other and the small circle of others around us. It’s all we can do. And also, to never engage in the hateful rhetoric. To never become what so many have chosen to be. To be decent. To find the light in the darkness.

By

Aaron Echoes August