I unplugged
this week.
The noise in our world
both far and near
so loud.
I couldn’t hear
a simple gratitude–
not one.
Here I was
preparing for Thanksgiving
–an oven christening
–a home christening
–a family christening
and all I could do was stir
the simmering pot
of anger.
So I did the only thing I could think of
The only thing I’ve found to help me:

I unplugged.

I unplugged
and I raged.
I unplugged
and I wept.
I unplugged
and I did not hear a voice.

Rather I found
my gratitude
in a fifth grader asking
to help prepare the feast.
We christened our kitchen
in the peeling of the potato
the sautéing of the celery and onion.
the invention of a stuffing and cranberry ball.
As we–
step-mother and step-daughter–
mashed and chopped
our rhythm was a prayer of thanks.