Monday, November 5, 2012

dear america.

dear america, 

i'm nervous to be writing you as i have so many things to ask, to bullet point, to list, to understand. i am so confused by you. but first, how are you america? how are you feeling? 'oh, yes, i understand that deep exhaustion...oh, rape? oh, i am so sorry to hear it, to see it, to smell it, to live inside so much of your rape.'

i am so sad for you, for us, for everybody. does anyone else know about it? dear america, where are your gentle parts? are there any left? is there anything left of you? i miss a piece of you, many of you, all of you, that i never met before. you are gorgeous in so many places and i have hope for you. maybe that's what keeps you going? everybody's hope? is it working? 

is there enough light to keep you alive? are the wounds sutured? did you get staples? where does stainless steel come from? is it all ok in your skin? dear america, dear america, dear sweet, needle-point pillow with a smoking cabin on it america. can we weave a new quilt with a new mission for you america?

 can we believe in the real things and not kill so much? can we live in an honest, core based truth, where we unfold our bodies like Rilke and listen to what we need? can we trust you again america? 

are you still there? 

you are so young and so sick, too early in your life. what can i do to help america? my heart is oozing out to you with these words. where to begin? how to ask you about all the things that don't make any sense... how are you handling all of our garbage? is our recycling being exported to china on huge barges? what should we do to change it all? 

how can i help america? can i get you a green tea with a three minute egg? it's a really good start. dearest anerica, are you hungry? please, come into my kitchen, allow me the honor, the vital tincture of today is about feeding you. let me roast a butternut squash and puree some mint with zucchini and sweet onion. 

oh and lets warm the ground. lets plant some seeds together and renew our vows america. i would love that...would you dear america? let me tie my apron around you so that you can feel centered in this story. let me put a lavender warmer around your head like a crown. 

let me share (with you) what continues to save my life: look at this cake plate, this deep wood bowl, this deep green cavolo nero kale, this red vained baby chard.....hold on to this persimmon. let it change your life, america. she was grown here. she loves you, we love you. please, enjoy this warm love, digest it and maybe you will feel better. 

i think i feel better. 
do you?