Bio Note: The idea of survival is much on my mind lately, with my own experience having Covid-19, the firestorm apocalypse in the west, and the endangered state of the nation. Although none of these are resolved, it seems all of us are survivors who keep breathing and hoping, and working under such threats.
Tell me It was more than luck A bad situation But not a toss up My chances better than they looked Open and naked with nothing Left to say Tell me again It was an ordinary day Ending as it had to Safe and sound without much I wasn’t ready for I promise this time I will believe Everything you say I will keep all your words Folded like a prayer In my pocket And promise not to open them Into the darkness I know hides behind them
The world after rain Sweet as just laundered sheets Greens flush and water-fat Flowers face up and fresh Bending gently Beneath each tickling bee Such mornings will not bear Complaint From any left survivors Of the sudden flood Who did not drown And were not struck By lightnings or the falling trees That brought a swift end To some unlucky caught Too far from shelter And the high ground Both safety and this Clean morning Impossible to reach
©2020 Mary McCarthy
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