Poetry Lovers in a Dangerous Time

Sometimes when I allow myself to think about it, I feel guilty when I focus on poetry rather than on the political and environmental disasters I see happening around me. When I feel that way, though, I try to listen to Bruce Cockburn’s "Lovers in a Dangerous Time."

Don’t the hours grow shorter as the days go by
You never get to stop and open your eyes
One day you’re waiting for the sky to fall
The next you’re dazzled by the beauty of it all
When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

These fragile bodies of touch and taste
This vibrant skin — this hair like lace
Spirits open to the thrust of grace
Never a breath you can afford to waste
When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Sometimes you’re made to feel as if your love’s a crime —
But nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight —
Got to kick at the darkness ’til it bleeds daylight
When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time
And we’re lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

The saddest part of all this is that I may well be dead before this "War on Evil" is finished. I can’t afford to ignore those things I love the most and simply focus on the war and the environment until the problems are solved.

I guess I just have to remember that every moment spent on those things I love is just that more precious because of the times.

Life’s Sense of Humor

Friday seems to have marked the end of the first wave or tax filers at work. For the first time in a long time I wasn’t booked thoughout the day with walk-ins waiting in line just in case I was finished with my on-the-hour appointment. Of course it’s a little difficult to complain when you’re paid a percentage of the returns you handle.

However, working eight to nine hours a day for three weeks often without a lunch break is definitely tiring, and I was looking forward to this break before the last rush at the end of tax season.

Ironically, just as it appeared that I would have some extra time I came down with a cold or the flu. I actually left work early Friday, but instead of coming home and reading a poetry book, as I would have liked to do, I came home, took some Theraflu and went to bed early.

I’m not feeling much better this morning as Leslie noted when she saw me having chicken noodle soup for breakfast. How I long for the old days when my stay-at-home mother would make me stay in bed when I was sick and bring me anything I wanted when I would call downstairs piteously. There’s nothing quite as comforting as eating in bed and having your chest rubbed with Vicks Vapor Rub.

I’m not sure if I’m going to sleep until I recover or whether, as in my college days, I’ll lay in bed reading rather than sleeping. One way or the other, I’ll be back online shortly. I’m just not sure when.