Clearing the Air
The truth is, I feel awkward talking about the storm. We were safe and sound in Park Slope; the lights never so much as flickered, the internet never failed. My family in New Jersey is getting by with no power and no water still, but they’re hardy country-dwellers and somewhat used to the lights going out at this point.
But then again, I feel awkward not talking about the storm, blathering on about some new recipe, or my latest challenge with time management, or what the view from my living room looks like now that the tree outside the window has lost every last leaf. When so many have lost so much, that feels patently wrong.
I hope you and your loved ones are safe and cozy and dry. That is what I most want to say. And to share this poem, which I came across last night while I waited on the subway platform for a crowded train to carry me home.
Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.
––by Izumi Shikibu, translated by Jane Hirshfield