In Response to the Flood in Northern Minnesota

I am blest to step under a shower, the gush of hot water / to have indoor plumping / sleep in a warm bed. I am blest to be able to buy groceries / buy even flowers / buy even candles / paper towels / to have light / a tv / to play DVDs / have a pile of books teetering on the edge of a table.

I am blest to have a pc / a politically correct bus ride / green energy and brown skin and my hood I wasn’t born in and can leave anytime. I am blest to be handed a transfer I didn’t pay for / given an apology / a smile / a seat / to be asked if I am coming over soon / to be wanted / to be called.

I am blest hundreds of times a day when my mind clicks on and hundreds of times when my body stands up and when it walks and does those exercises to get back in shape and the green growing in the yard and a view out the window and suddenly a robin.

I am blest to be home alone and blest to be in a crowd of children and blest to be watching the world walking by with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine in my hand and a slice of pizza or a salad with cranberries and walnuts and fresh baked bread.

I am blest to be doing the dance of peace and hey baby it’s me in the mirror liking the silver that frames my face and never mind the winter of my discontent or the summer of my first heart-break. I do not have water gushing over my floors and mass destruction and housedamaged. I already declared bankruptcy and walked the sliver of despair, I already fell in the desert of defeat and arose with my mouth full of dust.

I spread the ashes of my lover and thought of how two can make a soul or break a promise and I tasted the ashes when my husband confided his HIV status was acute again and I sank up to my neck in ash when I watched my son’s mortal remains swirl away in the river. So blest blest blest am I to work in silence and not go screaming through the streets and what I can do to light a match to the small lantern one more time and what can I do but follow its luminescence that leads me on?