Tried to Quiet My Chattering Mind
Mary Dryovage
I can’t believe my scalp
has not soaked up the smell of fumes
from the fire crackers and explosives
which have been going off for days
in my neighborhood.
The stench of the smoke has filled my lungs all day,
overwhelming my nostrils.
Is it the latest fire
or just leftover ordnance
which were lit last night,
for a momentary sparkle of bright patterns?
My brain tried to make sense of it.
Earlier, I watched the beautiful clear air,
the gentle clouds turning purple and orange
in the shadow of Mount Diablo,
then gradually,
the test rockets exploded and as the sky darkened,
the show began, thanks to the Pleasant Hill Fire Department.
I tried to quiet my chattering mind.
Oh wow, I can’t believe we still pollute our air in this wasteful way.
I thought we’d figured this out.
Since I was with friends
who were part of this scene,
their neighbors on blankets, in chairs
and sitting on the grass, laughing and chatting,
ooing and aawing at first and then quiet in wonder,
contemplating so many tragedies.
Mercifully, no corny patriotic sound track played this year.
Normally, they play loud skin crawling versions
of “my country tis of thee” sung by the local high school band.
No one wanted to be reminded of
how far the country has come in the last two years.
How many people have died or gotten COVID, or long COVID?
How many have been misinformed about the Presidential election?
How many are buying more guns, hoping to have a chance to kill someone they don’t like?
So we all looked up at the beautiful lights in the sky
and were thankful we were in a well-feed peaceful crowd,
with friends and family.
has not soaked up the smell of fumes
from the fire crackers and explosives
which have been going off for days
in my neighborhood.
The stench of the smoke has filled my lungs all day,
overwhelming my nostrils.
Is it the latest fire
or just leftover ordnance
which were lit last night,
for a momentary sparkle of bright patterns?
My brain tried to make sense of it.
Earlier, I watched the beautiful clear air,
the gentle clouds turning purple and orange
in the shadow of Mount Diablo,
then gradually,
the test rockets exploded and as the sky darkened,
the show began, thanks to the Pleasant Hill Fire Department.
I tried to quiet my chattering mind.
Oh wow, I can’t believe we still pollute our air in this wasteful way.
I thought we’d figured this out.
Since I was with friends
who were part of this scene,
their neighbors on blankets, in chairs
and sitting on the grass, laughing and chatting,
ooing and aawing at first and then quiet in wonder,
contemplating so many tragedies.
Mercifully, no corny patriotic sound track played this year.
Normally, they play loud skin crawling versions
of “my country tis of thee” sung by the local high school band.
No one wanted to be reminded of
how far the country has come in the last two years.
How many people have died or gotten COVID, or long COVID?
How many have been misinformed about the Presidential election?
How many are buying more guns, hoping to have a chance to kill someone they don’t like?
So we all looked up at the beautiful lights in the sky
and were thankful we were in a well-feed peaceful crowd,
with friends and family.
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Mary Dryovage is a writer, activist and attorney who lives in San Francisco with her husband. She is currently a PhD/MFA student at California Institute of Integral Studies (CIIS) and holds a B.A. in political science from the University of Michigan, a J.D. from Wayne State Law School and an M.A. in East/West Psychology from CIIS.
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