A Letter in Return

And how do you live and what are your fears during this crisis?

What a question to surface 
 after midnight from across the world! 
 In your country is it the time of day 
 to wrestle all the existential and daily dreads 
 until, like Jacob and the vicious angel,
 they concede to bless us?

I am afraid that people I love will die.
 I am afraid that my child is inheriting a world
 so much harsher than what she deserves.
 I am afraid that desperate times call
 for desperate measures and I 
 am not quite desperate enough.

Should I go on? I am afraid 
 that people have wandered away 
 from the very idea of truth.
 I am afraid we have unlearned
 how to speak, and how to listen.
 I am afraid the fabric that holds us together
 is woven more loosely than I thought
 and people keep slipping through.

And how do you live?

With grief. With fear. With laughter. 
 With boredom. With glee. With contentment. 
 With fury. With hope.
 With the firm conviction that no thing 
 cancels any other thing out.
 Death does not cancel life.
 Grief does not cancel joy.
 Fear does not cancel conviction.
 Nor any of those statements in reverse.

Make your heart a bowl
 that is large enough to hold it all.
 Imagine that you are the potter.
 Stretch the clay. Cherish the turning wheel.
 Accept that the bowl
 is never going to be done.