Metal and glass, granite and flame: I snapped this photo at a small vigil in Dorchester last Sunday night, in the wake of the awful events in Charlottesville.
I’d seen a list online of vigils in the Boston area, so the hubs and I hopped on the trolley to the Ashmont T station (about a mile from our new house) to join about 50 people in a quiet show of solidarity and peace.
I wasn’t sure whether to go: I am wary, in these uncertain days, of doing anything just to make myself feel better, when none of this is about me at all. I didn’t go so I could tell people I’d gone; I was shy even about introducing myself to others who were there. But it still felt important to show up, to stand with other people in our new neighborhood who care about justice and peace, and who understand that we are all culpable in this long story of hurt and hatred and injustice in the country we love.
We chanted Heather Heyer’s name; we sang a verse of a song about peace and carrying burdens together; and afterward, a few of us stood around chatting, learning each other’s names: Patricia, Johanna, Orin, Rachel, James, Lizzie, Kathleen. I left feeling still heartbroken, but quietly buoyed up.
It felt so small, hardly worth mentioning – but worth doing. I share my experience here, in case you are wondering if the small things you’re doing are worth it, or in case you need an idea of how that might look. Because showing up – however that looks – always matters. I have to believe that.
cakes, tea and dreams 
Dear Friend, sister poet and life-lover, book-reader,
I want to tell you I think it’s a good thing to make yourself feel better. I think I understand your reluctance to be take away from the tragedy and the victims. However, in one way we are all victims, of that lowest common human denominator that spoke with the voices of hatred and acted from ignorance.
Standing up >is< important. Gathering with like-minded others is useful in many layered ways. My parents taught me that as a young child, when they took me to movement marches in Birmingham, AL in the 1960's. We were a trembling minority and like Heather Heyer's mother, my parents modeled civil action, showed us the integrity of risking our lives for our values. Face-to-face, heart-to-heart connections are one thing I can do to plant the seeds for needed changes in human behavior. If we don't stand up, who will? More power to you and late-hot summer eclipse blessings. Annie
Thank you so much, Annie. I needed these words. xo