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.
Diane Kendig’s most recent poetry collection is Woman with a Fan: On Maria Blanchard, and the chapbook, Prison Terms (finalist for the Cathy Smith Bowers award). A recipient of awards from the Ohio Arts and National Humanities Councils, as well as the Fulbright Foundation and Yaddo, she has published poetry and prose in journals such as The Ekphrastic Review, Under the Sun, and Valparaiso Review. For 20 years, Kendig directed creative writing at the University of Findlay, including a prison writing program. Currently she curates, “Read + Write: 30 Days of Poetry,” with 7,000 subscribers.
