Self-Care: The Right to Be

What does self care look like to me in America in Connecticut 

The soft chair in the quiet room at the end of the day 

The sun setting 

Shadows of branches on the snow 

When I am reading about a pregnant woman who prays to die 

When she hears her baby has died inside her 

After the Russians have shelled her maternity hospital in Ukraine

What does self care look like 

What does it mean for me to take care of myself on the face of this

I call my congressman and I call my senator 

My representative–Jahanna Hayes–adds me to her mailing list 

And there is no end to the junk in my inbox

My Senator--Chris Murphy–replies that he gets a lot of email

And isn't it wonderful to get email from people telling him how to do his job 

I call my Senator–Chris Murphy–and say that's facetious and the intern 

At the other end of the phone lets me know in his tone his words his attitude

That he believes he is smarter than I am

And I am taking up his time. He

Is a kid in college (I hope), his untested fingers touching the keyboard touching the phone 

Touching the upholstered seat of his chair 

He has no idea 

Child, you will never know a woman blasted open,

She and her  baby on a stretcher in a war zone 

I prefer to die rather than live with the loss, she said 

That untested kid in the senator’s office in New Britain 

Has no idea

Though the man he works for, Senator Chris Murphy, might.

Murphy's people hired this  kid to represent him 

What a mess

I understand, though. You take care of your own,

Including the ones with soft hands

Back to self care 

What the hell is that 

What time to turn off the news, turn away, go for a walk 

Eat ice cream 

Pretend everything's fine because 

The tulips are coming up and the daffodils 

Doesn't work for me 

Self-care is saying what can I do for you 

Can I fight for you, speak English for you, smile,

Wear blue and yellow ribbons 

I don't know what 

Tell me

My mind goes back to my ancestors

Killingworth, Connecticut

The remains of the stones that mark their burial places 

Jutting at irregular angles from the Earth 

And pointing to the sun

They fought in the French and Indian War 

They fought in the Revolution–

Both were world wars–

Those, my friends, were world wars, 

And they fought in them and they farmed through them 

And they fought and they stayed

They moved on 

To where I am now

And here we are, I am,  these are 

My ancestors

These people who fought 

And they tell us 

You have a right to be here 

Whatever self care is 

My home is your home 

I'm home 

The door is open

Come in

Rest