That Wanted Belonging

I'm peeling potatoes for dinner,
listening to "A Celtic Sojourn" on the radio,
and finding I am homesick for a world
I've never visited, much less known.
Does this ever happen to you?
Yet I sense I am close to that
wanted belonging right here~
cooking supper in my kitchen, by the radio,
on a windy winter's night.
Soon the news will come on to report
murders, blunders, greed, upheaval and devastation.
But for now the fiddle is bending sweet notes,
and the flute is singing like a sparrow
in spite of everything that is ugly,
and it occurs to me: those of us
who can make love, we should still make love.
Those who can make something beautiful,
let them create their beauty.
Those who can dance ought to still dance.
Those who can give thanks,
even if it's for something
as fleeting as breath,
let's raise our voice in thanks.
I don't mean to sound naive or uncaring-
of course we are meant to help the suffering.
But I am trying to imagine, also,
all the ways we keep channeling
goodness and glory into the world:
making love and music,
peeling potatoes, baking bread....
~Ingrid Goff-Maidoff

from What Holds Us