This morning when I could do nothing else I took a photo of my morning coffee against a protest photo from the Washington Post. The sign in the foreground read “no justice no peace;” in the background loomed the Capital building. This evening as I lingered on the porch, the best seat in the house for breezes bringing some cooler air, I saw my first fireflies of the season. I wanted to ask them, how is your life?
TODAY, WHEN I COULD DO NOTHING
Today, when I could do nothing,
I saved an ant.
It must have come in with the morning paper,
still being delivered
to those who shelter in place.
A morning paper is still an essential service.
I am not an essential service.
I have coffee and books,
time,
a garden,
silence enough to fill cisterns.
It must have first walked
the morning paper, as if loosened ink
taking the shape of an ant.
Then across the laptop computer — warm —
then onto the back of a cushion.
Small black ant, alone,
crossing a navy cushion,
moving steadily because that is what it could do.
Set outside in the sun,
it could not have found again its nest.
What then did I save?
It did not move as if it was frightened,
even while walking my hand,
which moved it through swiftness and air.
Ant, alone, without companions,
whose ant-heart I could not fathom—
how is your life, I wanted to ask.
I lifted it, took it outside.
This first day when I could do nothing,
contribute nothing
beyond staying distant from my own kind,
I did this.
–Jane Hirshfield, published March 23, 2020 in the San Francisco Chronicle