Existential Crisis and Love (and Poetry)

Living in the End Times is rough. Societal collapse, with rising prices and stagnant wages and an unthinkable wealth gap, is exhausting.

Mass shooting after mass shooting. Scandal on top of scandal. The floor keeps sinking in the race to the bottom and the climate crisis is here and the tipping point four years out.

So, yeah, I let my first grader cosplay as Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas to get her to go to school.

Loving someone amidst an existential crisis is so very confusing and so incredibly important.

I see my partner’s dismay/frustration in my constant naming of the Doom. I contain it in front of Kiddo but let it fly when it’s just Us.

I don’t know where else to put it, so I’ll put here:

I kept my Doom within me,
And it slowly ate my cells.

I hid my Doom from the others,
And sacrificed myself.

I turned my Doom against me,
Harming myself for years.

I spoke my Doom in the darkness,
Consuming myself in fear.

I took my Doom to my journal,
Writing thousands of words or so.

I took my Doom to the garden,
And got some flowers to grow.

I share my Doom with you, love,
Because I trust you and

If you know Doom like I do,
Let me hold your hand.

****

I’m heading out to the garden, loves. Have some water, chew something, and take good care.

You are loved my be and others.