Today, a weight of unsung tears. This ocean in my chest; it stirs and moves, rolling in against rock and sand, without word or song. Today, simply being with its movement, rising and falling. The sky grey, the cloud cover low, the salty sea moves in its own changing rhythms. My belly, some dark cave with bats hanging waiting for twilight, feeling the call of night. Unrest. There is a sadness, vast and beyond my capacity to hold. I am feeling weary today. Our times grow darker, heavy, now. Today, my belly coils as rises the nation’s shadow, Donald Trump, flagrant and dark. From some dark cavern this flagrant shadow oozes, then erupts center stage. How troubled we gather ourselves together, pointing fingers, too much denied, cloaks too heavy for shoulders to bear any longer, too much binding wrapped around and around hearts, steeled against fear and possible pain, too many tears swallowed into stiffening bodies. …and bullies arise and rage filled snipers; black men, again, become scapegoat and target; the indigenous stripped from roots and vision, too often swallowed in rivers of addictions. The earth, she weeps. The whales weep. The loons carry the grief song for too many. The night sky calls us to look beyond, to look at the empty spaces between the stars, to return to the ancient stories, to what has been lost. The waters ask us to move into our thirst, to ache for water and life.