Solid Ground - April 25 2023

 

Solid Ground

April 25 2023

The potholes are bigger this year.

Like land mines

they lie in wait,

cleverly disguised

and nearly as lethal.

Ice penetrates,

the land subsides,

pavement cracks.

It feels as if there's no solid ground anymore;

that the earth is washing away

from beneath our feet.

I've never lived through an earthquake.

But from then on

it must feel like this   —

that even the earth

can no longer be counted on;

that nothing is certain;

and that to nature

in all her majestic indifference

we are insignificant,

easily dispensed with.

A useful lesson

in humility.

Of course, a broken suspension

is hardly the same

as a mine

vaporizing your legs,

buildings toppling

and being swallowed up by the earth.

But there is the sense

that the centre no longer holds.

That the world

in a state of disrepair

is descending into disorder.

Our winter of discontent,

and the cruel temptations

of a false spring;

dangling the promise of better

only to rudely snatch it back.