Today

 Wildfire Sunrise

Wildfire Sunrise

Today I will try

Again.

I promise I tried yesterday, but so many things went upside down. I forgot to tell them to clean up, I didn't do the laundry, I ate too much.

Today I will try.

Again.

I feel the weight of this day. This day that will happen only once. So much will be decided today. I will decide to be patient or not. He will decide to be kind or not. They will decide they matter or not. Some will decide they do not matter. 

Today I will try.

Again.

I have lost days to sadness, anger, and fear and I mourn their loss. I cannot promise that I won't lose today. Sometimes it seems inevitable. But I can promise I will try. We gathered oak leaves and acorns yesterday. Three pairs--all different. We will sort them and classify them. Black oak. White oak. We call them black and white. Why do we do this? I wonder if there is anger. I wonder if there is hatred. 

Or are we the only species that hates.

Chickens will kill one who does not belong, but do they feel hatred as their beaks strike flesh? A dog will attack, but does he feel rage or only purpose? Is cognition the original loss--the original sin? 

We have drawn our lines in the sand. We are this and not that. We want this and not that. We see these but not those. And we have wounded ourselves. We have drawn our lines, meant to divide and protect, in our own flesh. We have become as mindless as chickens.

Today I will be.

Again.

Because I tried yesterday, and I snapped at them and sighed at him and worried about that. And now, sitting here watching the sunrise, I realize I can't try. Trying just distracts me from what is. I can only be. 

I am here. Here I am.

Again.