a poem for our times

The gloom arises out of Ukraine,

out of Gaza,

out of Israel.

Out of the darkness of the human heart

it spreads across the world darkening everything.

I feel it thickening around me

chilling me

making it hard to move.

In the morning i dispel it by playing my guitar.

Five blocks away a woman dispels the gloom

by sewing a bag of quilted squares to put things in.

At the top of the hill a man dispels the gloom by building

an ornate fence.

At a table in a restaurant a woman dispels gloom by

writing a poem,

while back in the kitchen the cook dispels the gloom by

making pie crusts, perfect circles, one after the other.

Near the beach a woman makes sigils, magic charms, to hang in trees,

while another, in her home, writes sorrowful stories

to dispel the gloom.

Gradually the gloom that threatened to drown us

dispels

like mist thinning in the sun.

Another day is born.

We reinvent the world,

creating it anew one small piece at a time.

We shall breathe for another day,

having dispelled the gloom

bringing in

piece by piece —

the light.

© 2023 “The gloom” by Arnie Porter, dear friend, longtime palliative care counsellor, and author of three books (Arnold W. Porter).