I want to know
when it will be
permissible
for me to Turn my face
away from the
blood-soggy state
of the world and
return to praising
the clarity and
loveshocked hue of
my beloved’s eyes,
to bask in the sun
under the leaves of
a grand oak while
summer buzzes around us,
to drowse without
reaching for the radio
to turn up a raging
story or turn down
a tragedy. I want to know
what it feels like
not to care about
what is happening
in places other than my
own garden. Now that
my privilege and my ability
to ignore so much
have been torn to rags,
I want to know how
I can mend them well enough
to enjoy unalloyed happiness
again, as this desperate
scrabbling to seize joy
between moments
of fear is so hard;
I cannot understand
how so many millions
have done it
for so long.
Privileged Prayer
Tags:
turn