That's Today

Dear Kate,

So that's it, right?  We are gonna "sit this one out."

The best we can do for ourselves and humanity now, we are told, is to stay inside, be a reluctant stoic, a lustful monk, a poet waiting on her next iambic pentameter.

Consider them, these two words, both together in that order: stay, inside.  Now say them again, in succession still, but with conviction and a little pause pressed in between.

Stay.



Inside.

Two very meaningful words, separately, and exponentially so conjugally, in the combination and permutation of their nuances made infinite by memory and imagination.

Do you know any song about staying/not going?  One that makes your heart by way of breaking it?

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed
Were just seasons out of time

And do you know any book about staying inside?

“Nothing had anything to do with me.
I was locked up inside myself and evicted from myself.
I didn’t belong to them and I was missing me.”

Now, everybody talks about a new world in the morning; a new world in the morning so they say.  But what we want is not tomorrow's morning, hell no, but the one before the 40 nights of deluge, or the one we are to usher in come resurrection time--to force in, push through, if necessary.  Jesus can rot for three days, but not us, not our economy, not in our state of neediness, scared witless by what we witnessed staying inside ourselves.

How can one be so housed yet so homeless, clothed yet so naked, blessed, ever and now, yet so fearful?

A new world in the morning, that's today.

Yours, Alex