I haven’t said anything

George Floyd was murdered in broad daylight by an officer of the law with witnesses standing near, yet I haven’t said anything here.

People are protesting in the streets, still I’ve stayed home, safe in my little world, pleading age and fear of contracting a virus.

Friends are hurting, at each other’s throats, but I’ve not written a word. That’s my privilege and my shame.

Instead, I’m listening. Learning. Taking notes. My whiteness is my shield and my weakness in matters of color.

I know this, though, black lives matter, and even if I don’t know what else to do or say. I’ll keep saying those three words.

Black Lives Matter.

For Jim

Oh, Jim,

When I close my eyes, I see your face,

I hear your voice, those words of wry wisdom and gentle humor.

For months I’ve known this day would come, still the news of your passing caught me off guard,

Hit me right in the heart.

Knocked me off my feet.

You were our leader. The one who made the exaggerated gesture—feet off the pegs, legs askew—while riding your motorcycle, making me laugh,

Even as I negotiated the curves on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

You never pushed me to ride over my head, simply let me ride my own pace.

Oh, how I’ll miss you.

Dear Jim,

I hope you’ll sing karaoke in heaven.

When I Feel Sad

When I feel sad I might curl up in a ball and sob

Or apply mascara and go out for lunch

I might dance around the room with abandon

Or sit by myself in a corner, when I feel sad.

There’s no telling what I’ll do when the self pity lands

And my thoughts go to dark places. But I won’t do that.

Don’t worry. I’m not sad.

Peace, people.