You read a poem written almost a hundred years ago which has a small part that resonates so sweetly with you. It surfaces in me when times are tough to bear.
In our modern life we are so connected. Social media, sharing thoughts from friends, from
the news from strangers, can get difficult to process sometimes. Amy Winehouse died of a drug overdose. The inevitable stream of “Well we knew that was coming” “No big surprise” and so much worse make me want to unplug completely.
A gunman killing children in Oslo, and it escalates to where I just don’t want to think about it, it’s so overwhelming. I can’t even sleep, the minute details all provided make avoiding the nightmare impossible.
In my mind I can hear Robert Frost reading his poem; “I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.”
I was overwhelmed by the anger, the lack of compassion, the sharing of horrific details by the news agencies; news that no one needs to know. Things that journalists tastefully omitted in the past now simply must be included, until you feel like you can’t rid yourself of the innapropriate horrible details.
I just want to leave it all for a while. This place. No, no not forever. Just rise up and leave and come back down when things have gotten better.
If they ever do.
– Posted from my iPhone