Dear America, the hardbound collection, opens with a quote by Joan Baez: Action is the antidote to despair. Well said. And as true for diabetes as for anything else.
In covid times, time comes at me differently.
Dear America:
My son taught me to brew tea in a silver corona pierced with moon and stars. To pinch up the thirsty curls and drop them into that tiny infinity, the circle, smelling bergamot as they blossom and plump. Then I become a cup myself, curving my fingers in a beverage namaste, drinking warmth through my palms and through moist steam along my face, bold balm light-footing, chocolate-sweet.
Always my best teacher, my child. Even now, as a 20-year-old man, returned to share my roof because: coronavirus. Things come at me differently in his company. We paddle Icicle Creek, and stones like bread loaves and brioche rolls rush to meet us as the river melts time like butter, or like glass. Science is surprising and the science of glass is this: technically a liquid, it flows, slower than we can think. In an old cabin, we find window-glass thickened at the bottom.
In Covid times, time comes at me differently. More Americans dead in a handful…
… please join me over at terrain.org to read further, and to enjoy other Letters to America.
Many Letters to America have been collected in an award-winning book Dear America. Jimmy Santiago Baca writes: “When you get a book like this, Dear America, you carry it with you into war, onto the battlefield, into classrooms, because it’s not just a book in the traditional sense, it’s a tool to sharpen the dull mind, to see injustice where before you let it pass.”
