When Bad Things Happen

When bad things happen, I step outside.
I want to plant my hands, my feet, my body into the soil.
Let Mother Earth hold me, console me.

I listen for a still small voice–it’s all going to be ok.

It doesn’t come this time.

I wait. I wait. The sun goes down. The sun comes up.
I wait.

There is something here beside me, but it doesn’t speak or whisper.
It is not the still small voice I long to hear. 

Maybe, this is the tipping point. Maybe we can’t come back from this.
Maybe this was one too many grievous sins.

Maybe no matter what I wish for, desire, want–it’s not going to be ok.

Not this time.

I want to make it better. I want to use my pen and paper to smooth it all out.
I want to type the right letters that spread optimism.
I want to add sparks of hope on this dark night, in this dark world.
I want to see green and blue instead of black and red.

I want us all to be ok.

I write the last sentence and stare at the screen. I press delete.
How can I ever hashtag a school shooting?




11 thoughts on “When Bad Things Happen

  1. You’ve captured the feeling just right. I don’t love the expression “there are no words” but they do come close to getting at the impossibility of writing your way out of this kind of grief, frustration, and rage.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is such a powerful reflection Cheryl – I know how dumbfoundingly idiotic and painful it is for us to hear of, here, so far away – I couldn’t imagine how it must be to live through again and again……. these words bridge that gap. I’m so sorry though that you had to write this.

    Liked by 1 person

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