Poem of the Week, by Martha Postlethwaite

Shack hammockWho am I? What is my place in this world? How do I stay steady and strong and never stop trying to help the world? Our burning planet. The onrush of artificial intelligence. This heedless erosion of democracy. These are my three biggest panics.

Panic is the right word but not the right reaction, because in me it leads to resignation that leads to paralysis. So I’ve been quiet the last few months, thinking. Reflecting. Insighting, which wasn’t a word but is now. Smiling at everyone I encounter, saying hello, giving a compliment. Trying to forge that human connection, person by person, moment by moment. Trying to create a clearing. 

Clearing, by Martha Postlethwaite

Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself
to this world
so worthy of rescue.

​For more information about Martha Postlethwaite, please click here​.

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