A Week of Poetry: March 8

March 14, 2020 

Coronavirus fatique.
It's a thing.
Five weeks ago it was Chinese New Year.
Taking a beloved festival away,
A wretched, wracking decision. 
Followed by the hurt of criticism and social media hatred.
"Xenophobic" -me, one who has been a stand for the Chinese community for over two decades.
Crushed. And. It wasn't personal.
I became Teflon. Stopped reading the feeds. 

Fast forward to this week:
More calls to lead: to wrestle with the word
Postponement.
Cancellation.
Programs. Experiences. 

The Dance of language: just the right balance, they said
of concern and authority.
The waiting for news and permission.
And now a full closure for an indeterminate amount of time.
Just the right balance between what we know and what we don't know.
Confident and uncertain.
Reassuring and worried.
Prepared. Well being first.
Compassion now. 

And as I said in February, any risk above zero is risk.
What creates this? This ability to discern, decide, disappoint?
Love.
I become Teflon.
This is a business of humans being:
Being well, safe and loved.
Not one unwell if I can stop it. Not one.

March 13, 2020 

Mindfulness in One Poem

What are you worried about?
The World.
(Takes a deep breath)
What are you worried about now?
The Country.
(Takes another deep breath)
What are you worried about now?
The City.
(Takes another deep breath)
And now?
The Town.
(Breath)
And now?
This Neighborhood.
(Takes a slow breath)
And now?
This House.
(Breaths, natural, repeated)
And now?
Me. My family.
(Takes a few more natural breaths.)
And how about now?
What are you thinking about now?
This breath.

March 11, 2020 

New friend to me: “Amy are you in Real Estate?”
I said no...Asian Art 
But actually I wish I’d said 
“Yes, the Real Estate of our Hearts.”
That’s what I’m in.

March 10, 2020 

Today the sun caught me five ways.
Before 8.
It was a day of journeys
And remembrances.
Christened by a blaze of brightness 
Through my windshield. 

The visor is never enough
To shade the power of a sun at dawn.
A hot foretelling of July:
Earth tilting the sunrise back up the meridian.
Long shadows be gone. 

Her hotness held at bay for a few more weeks.
Her brilliance blocked as I turned this way and that.
She caught me at corners
Lurked while I sat.
Teased. Docile at dawn,
Untamed by 8. Relentless. 

She caught me, this sun.
This day.
And I am so glad for it.