Nova Scotia Shooting Spree

Our crazy world has become even crazier.Trying to make sense of lives lost to a virus suddenly seems easier than trying to make sense of lives lost to a gunman – someone pretending to be a police officer for G** sake.

Unease bulges in my throat. I no longer recognize my world. I long for solitude but I don’t want to be alone. Stepping into running shoes I walk out the door, the energy to run gone with the twist of the doorknob.

I walk without a destination, to calm my nerves. I try not to think about families destroyed because they trusted a uniformed person.

I try not to think about too many people, too close together on the pathway. I veer to the overgrown winter grass. When people, dogs, bikes, kids head toward me, I freeze. I wish they would spread out.

When I get home, I bake cookies. Flour, butter, oatmeal, sugar,everything carefully measured, following an ordinary recipe.

But each time I hear a news broadcast between songs on the radio, I am reminded we live in a time that is anything but ordinary.

Peeking in the oven hoping to see the cookies spread out, knowing I have done nothing wrong, I still find myself whispering, I’m sorry.

(photo credit: Engin Akyurt)

Clandestine Visitor

Light patter of feet
upon bare floor
spring rain gently tapping on glass

Little person unable to sleep
attempts stealthy reprieve from night time ritual
creeps toward lamplight

Open book lies on blanketed lap
words on yellowed pages invisible
disinterest feigned in clandestine visitor
silently daring next move

The child darts from shadow to shadow
a staccato movement
stops and starts

Her position freezes
as I clear my throat
fetching a giggle

she anticipates discovery

With the willpower of Hercules
I do not look her way

Waiting
Waiting
Waiting

Until just the right moment to
FLING
my arms out
to grab her

Squeals of delight elicited
as we tumble
into a laughing heap