#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
2
As I wend to the shores I know not,
As I list to the dirge, the voices of men and women wreck’d,
As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon me,
As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer and closer,
I too but signify at the utmost a little wash’d-up drift,
A few sands and dead leaves to gather,
Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and drift.
~ Excerpt from Walt Whitman, “As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life”
I woke early for a client and to take my walk later. A very quiet house without guests, and the wind on the beach back hard at me. A leave-taking walk near the waves and the birds and the spring breakers in sunshine and picnics and play. I thought about leaving, what to pack. And I thought about revising my poem for tonight, the one I started last week and shared as a very fresh draft. Then I felt, I will never get this in reasonable shape to present tonight. The pelicans were a wild bunch today. Once home, I looked on Twitter for updates about the AWP conference. And so began a day of whiplash and wondering, will I go? Is it canceled? Should I go? The mayor of San Antonia declared a state of emergency because of the virus and we waited all day for an announcement from the conference. Then, surprise, it’s on. So, I packed some more. And reconsidered. And packed some more. And had my doubts. People, organizations kept canceling. What’s the “right” thing to do? Not clear at all. I told Frank I was canceling; he heard the news on CNN about San Antonio and said, yes, that’s good. But, then I went upstairs, finished packing. And then suddenly knew I no longer wanted to go; not into a situation of chaos and uncertainty and risk. I thought about returning home to family and guests we’re having and realized I would be wondering and fearful–what if I unwittingly carried the virus home? It all seems like too much confusion.I canceled. I went to my poetry workshop on Zoom and got the feedback that - somehow today amidst all this indecision - I managed a strong revision for my poem. Which makes me happy. And then I went and unpacked. Which makes me sad. It’s just a terrible crisis for this literary conference and all those who are quarantined and sick and carrying this virus. Tomorrow, I will walk with my friends on the shore after all.
