An Open Letter to My Fellow Americans

(Edit as published in the SF Chronicle February 14th, 2022)

“Let’s move on,” everyone says

But, there is no where else to go

This illusion of movement to a future promised land,

just beyond the horizon of inconveniences

“Let’s get on with our lives,” you say

Have you been asleep all this time?

Haven’t we all been living our lives through the mess, the sorrows, the death and disease?

What is this life you’re so anxious to get on with?

Will it look so much different than the now-moment you’re in,

that you proclaim so loudly in my ear and make such a fuss,

so I can understand what you’ve given up?

Truth is, your life will go on looking much the same

Many of you haven’t given up all that much

The illusion of normalcy, whatever that is

The luxury of not hearing about one million dead Americans

The permission to stop caring

It’s not easy, with one’s hearts and eyes open to a painful truth

But it’s not all bad

Because we are here

And that means we’re alive

Breathing, beating, dancing alive

Every morning a song

Every evening a prayer

This is our lives

The unbearable weight of just being here.