Saturday morning, 5:30 a.m., and already the cat has pushed a flashlight onto my sleeping head and the dog has fallen noisily down the stairs. Ergo, I am not in bed where I belong but drinking coffee in the kitchen and mending my disgruntlement. At least the house is warm.
When I let the cat out, I stood still for a moment in the snow-packed driveway and looked up at the line of planets stretching across the dark morning sky. Shivering, I stared into those pinpoints of ice and fire; and beyond them, around me, beneath me, ghosts sighed in the shadows.
Yesterday 17 Syrian children drowned off the coast of Greece. As poet A. E. Stallings points out, that's a classroom-full.
Ghosts, now.
3 comments:
There was nothing in this morning's paper about the Syrian children, so consumed is everyone with the still-falling snow. How devastating!
Alicia Stallings lives in Greece and her husband is a Greek journalist, so she is an excellent source of accurate, devastating news about the refugee crisis. And yet snow is compelling and important also. We cannot help but care about what is happening in our own sky. Stay safe.
And we think, these are my children too.
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