September 18, 2020

Ruth Bader Ginsberg is dead

And no one is coming to save us

The generation that came and went

Has failed so completely

It’s not worth mentioning

The children are rising up

And they are beautiful

But how dare we ask them

To do what we will not?

What we must

But for this night I set aside work

To drink tea

Light a candle

Stare into a night without stars

The chill whispering of darker days ahead

Sit shiva for the world

I failed

To make for my daughter

It does not feel new

It feels worn and tired and ugly

Like so many demons are now

Unwilling to stay buried

My hand holding my

One small shovel


Tonight I will ask the darkness

For its respects

But tomorrow:

We must no longer pile soil

But dig past shame

Till we reach the root

And keep going

No matter how tightly it entwines

Every choice we have made

Root and stem and branch

All our complicity

She is dead

And this is not a game

If we who remain

Want to survive this

We must call up her courage

No longer having the privilege

Of pretending we can’t see the monsters

That we’ve excused

That we’ve embraced

That we’ve become