the city that bombed itself

And So

Despair creeps into me
like cancer into the marrow of a bone.
In church today my mind wandered:
the sermon translated from Spanish
struck hollow, and I sat with my hands in my lap
looking at the stained glass windows and thinking
of Ted Bundy, the Oklahoma City Bombing,
and every kind of evil that sets itself against us.
What refuge is there against
such acts? We are in a dark room
and powerful men are outside with knives.
We barricade the door with desks and chairs
but like termites they come on and on.
Hush now! Sit beside me. Be still!
Yes there is death, but take this bell pepper,
red and proud, and take this bag of peas.
Carrots and zucchinis together in the bottom drawer,
onions and potatoes, solid as earth,
in the big brown bowl. Salt and pepper
In their place by the stove. Milk in the door. And so:
we cook and continue on. And so:
we commit ourselves to the growing of all good things-
grapes and wheat, rice and Northern beans,
hope, love, faithfulness, in the plot we have been
given, in the raised beds of our lives.