The poem was “A Cure Against Poisonous Thought” by Annie Lighthart
Believe the world goes on
and this bee bending
in honeysuckle just one
of a mighty nation, golden
beads thrumming
a long invisible thread.In the green drift of an afternoon,
the body is not root but wick:
the press of light surrounds it.
The lines that struck me are “Believe the world goes on”
“The body is not root but wick”
I wrote: I wish the line about the bee did not remind me that our poisons are destroying huge numbers of them. Believe the world goes on anyway. That kindness and caring can still happen, that we can at least accompany someone in their pain even when we can’t make it better. That we can extend caring and blessing and lovingkindness to everyone we meet without having to say anything. The body is not root but wick — when the candle is lit, who looks at the wick? The body burns fuel for living, what light does our living shed on the world? It’s true, we may not be able to save the bees, or the whales, or the elephants. The planet may continue to heat up, storms and floods will destroy people as well as animals and plants and coral reefs. Increasing pandemics will kill a lot of humans. But those who are left will still meet around campfires, singing whatever songs we can remember, still there will be kindness.
This writing seemed very significant to me. I’m able to accept that things might not get better, but also to affirm that kindness will still exist. Since I wrote this from another side of myself, it’s like a guidance writing. The seed of god in me said the words and I wrote them down.