Buoyancy and Burnout

In a world of rising seas, how to stay afloat? Buoyancy Against such weight I try to be a force which uplifts a drowning child wait a world a drowning world opening the backdoor of my parents' gracious house as far as I can see the salt of the earth- those who should be buoyant by nature a sea of wide eyed children in waters up to their necks begging for me to save them from their sufferings the ravages of hunger, illness, disease-- I am nineteen and dreaming visions haunted by a Fatima documentary I saw at age fourteen telling that the suffering of the children of Earth will be immense-- age seven victim or martyr? in my parents' basement I play alone on our brown couch I run an orphanage boat for children without parents I work without ceasing to make beds and soups and comfort these lost souls my dolls my charges whenever storms inevitably arise upon the seas and my children cry out in fear I am there their comfort and now forty six and mother of three I am haunted still by images by pleas by the sufferings of my children all children how is it that the world has come to this my own three ask well fed and lovingly sheltered but I cannot shelter them from what they see and hear this house is not an orphan ship where I can make it all okay by tucking in blankets and serving up warm dishes so I must cast them off as well I can and hope that their soft hearts can withstand the rising seas and storms and raging viruses and all that conspires to dull and break their spirit I hope that eyes for beauty and hearts for song and hands that learned to draw and paint and tend the soil and grow their food and breath that trained to sit in mindfulness of change will hold them while the wildfires burn and glaciers melt while immeasurable species go extinct and invasive policies and plants encroach upon parched souls and soils while war torn children cry out for lost parents while persecution rooted in the colour of your skin, your gender, your beliefs runs rampant I hope we've nurtured them well that their imagination is still strong as play and they can see the wonder in small things and goodness where it shows its shining face I hope they can continue to uplift themselves and others in laughter and jubilant calls for justice and for peace I hope the saline womb we have created in their hearts will make them buoyant enough to breathe deeply in the immensity of grace and loss joy and fear despair and hope allowing them to bravely break the surface tension and dive back down into the uncertain waters of life knowing they have strength to rise again uplifted Jill MacCormack Pair with the ache of Canadian contemporary classical pianist Alexandra Streliski's magnificent Burnout Fugue