Shelter in Place, San Francisco, California
Going out to finish watering the garden this morning, this is what I saw on the way to the back shed: carnage. The Angel Trumpets, as predicted, have fallen en masse and they are all lined up like dead bodies in the path. There must have been a strong wind to knock so many off the tree in a single night.
I cannot think of a better garden metaphor than this for the emotional and physical carnage that happened these past few days and especially last night in my former home, the Twin Cities. Carnage. My heart aches for everyone who lives there - wounded, all of them, of every stripe and color (no pity spared for those who fan the flames with rhetoric or with subterfuge). All of this destruction comes from anguish and frustration generations in the making, I know. It’s never as simple as flowers fallen from a tree. And yet I’ll pray with all my heart there is no wind tonight.