Tears in my Garden
I water the plants in my yard on a perfect-weather morning in August.
The sun shines clear and bright under an azure sky.
Humidity is low, and the Carolina wren sings amongst blue jay squawks.
I breathe deep to savor the crisp air, the sprouting beans,
And the knowledge that I am safe, healthy and beloved.
Meanwhile, newspapers report Russian troops entering Ukraine
And the plights of three million refugees who’ve fled war-torn Syria.
The Ebola virus infects 20,000 in West Africa and there’s no end in sight.
Drought in Central America starves and impoverishes southern neighbors
While a ceasefire between Israel and Gaza brings only faint glimmers of hope.
How do I abide by these tragedies, knowing that the specter of climate change
Plays its ruthless role in these conflicts and others to come?
What can I, with my bountiful life, do to confront the suffering
And loss among those less fortunate, those who simply yearn
To water their gardens and experience respite of peace and well-being?