Oh no: do, do be dismayed at the brokenness of the world.
I mean verily, weep for its brokenness,
Walk in steel-toed boots, stalk across the heaps of shards,
The stacks of glass, even the records broken,
The sharp ends of all that has come undone,
The edginess of it all, leaving us sleepless or if sleeping,
Dreaming of police and the waves wearing
At our foundations, whole chunks of cliffs
Taking their dives. Be dismayed deeply.
But don’t stay dismayed: stay the dismay.
Rise up and piece, sew, glue, do whatever you
Must to make whole what you can. This world
Has always been broken in places and healers
Have always worked in the spaces.