Joyfully,
I see the smiling faces peering at new photos.
I see the littlest ones joyful smile, just peeking in at the corner of the photo. Familiar. Reminiscent of her brothers.
I see bright, seemingly new clothing!
... and then I recognize...
Recognize that clothing from years past, had been drying on tree branches. They were.... Sunday clothes.
Recognize everyday shirts and pants show beneath these special day clothes.
Recognize those everyday clothes are the same from last year. And the one before. More weathered, faded, worn.
I notice the feet. Are they a pathway for parasite and disease?
I notice growth and lack of. A brother of ten as tall as the five?
I notice the the frailty. Frailty has returned and taken over another. Skeletal shadows show, again.
Sickness in time of harvest.
Malaria.
Sick.
Fucking mosquitoes.
My privilege reads debates on "Access and Affordability". Seriously? Are you fucking kidding?
Sick.
Heart sick.
It's familiar.
This knowing and not knowing.
This heart in another place.
I have to find a new stable. A new stable point of this knowing/unknowing of being the new normal. Of being in this privileged America and having family... not. Privilege is not transferable. My heart is unsettled.
4 comments:
I am sick reading this. It is so hard to feel like I compartmentalize my realities and my families. This is beautiful.
Contact is so bittersweet. In one hand you breathe the sigh of relief that everyone's still there and they look relatively good. Then you look closer both at the pictures and around you and it throws you completely off kilter. Your post sums it up well.
My heart is unsettled too. I have no idea how to do this.
Oh, I know this feeling. Too well.
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