A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
They were a sad lot, thought themselves the last of the righteous. Their ideas dead inside them, they armed their ignorant legions against the inevitable, thinking (in spite of their greed and depravity) their Jesus would rise again and save them. Their Jesus would come with an assault rifle leading them against the hoards of difference until there was no one left but them — their genes protected against the others, their treasure heaped and invulnerable — and then they would return to the garden. The garden they had poisoned beyond help. There they would inbreed a pure super race. They dreamed this with the light dying.
My dear friend Suzy Polucci died last night from Prion’s disease. I can’t even tell you what kind of big hole she leaves in the world. She was truly a great heart. She gave and gave and gave to people as a social worker and left a sea of love behind. She was also one of the kindest, funniest people I’ve ever met. In all the years I’ve known her I never heard her say an unkind word about anyone. It came easily and naturally to her. She was a fantastic performer and could have been a great standup comic if there had been an agent standing by, but she made a choice to hold the world in her heart. She was a genuinely spiritual person, inasmuch as I know what that word means. If she were reading this she’d make a joke about it. She wore this spirituality as a loose garment. I love you Suzy. You are a raucous, riotous love bundle. A Bohdisattva if there ever was one.
Blessed is the divine chocolate egg, the little grotto full of jelly beans resting on fake grass. Blessed is the pagan ritual it is. Blessed is the divine fertility hunt of wandering children. Blessed is the brokenness of the savior as he stands for all of us in this broken time, unknown to those who would kill for his name. Blessed is the Norse god Odin hung in a tree and stabbed in the side with a spear. Blessed is Loki, the trickster who pulls the rug out from under the smug certainty of dogmatists. Blessed is whatever sweetness of dark matter that against all odds somehow holds the universe together but for how long?
Copyright 2018 Doug Anderson