The herd is our brother, too

The deer looked like this.  Only imagine snow on the ground.

One of the herd

All week I intended to share a poem here.  Written six days ago.  I lounged on the couch in pajamas pre-dawn last Wednesday, happily anticipating quiet peaceful meditation.  Instead, a poem lassoed me.  The poem circled its rope from the corner of the living room insisting, “Write me, write me, write me!”

Of course, what do we do when this happens?  When a poem lassoes you from your living room on a perfectly ordinary Wednesday?   I felt heart-pumping interest and excitement along with “Oh, jeez, here we go again! Will it get me in trouble with everyone who thinks differently? Should I let it have its way?”

Its answer to my own inner frustration about–ahem, certain aspects of our current COVID situation, certain aspects about loved ones thinking differently than me–leaped up off the page like a gazelle.  Like a herd of buffalo the poem wrote itself.  My mouth hung open in amazement.  Wow, Poem, you had a lot to say.  Wow, Poem, I somehow feel better now.  Wow, Poem, good job.  Wow, Poem, I am NOT going to post you on Facebook and somehow try to defend you from snarling opponents all the live-long day.

“I am not posting you on Facebook,”  I warned said Poem.

What's up with the baby robins?

“Herd” of robins (last year’s picture)

At that moment, all hell broke loose in our Little House in the Woods.

A large thump shook the house.  (And I mean a HUGE thump.)  Scared the bejeezus out of me.  What the heck?  I peered at the window.  Feathers everywhere.  Opened the front door.  Blood, feathers, all over the front porch.  A partridge lay still, not breathing, dead from impact with our window.  Oh dear precious partridge!  This heart cried for this senseless death.  Alive one moment, gone the next.

Hello, Partridge

Partridge in Life (Husband insists on an “edit” here.  He cleaned the dead partridge and it’s in the refrigerator for future dining.)

Kinda like the poem I just wrote.  Some people might take the death of the partridge as a “sign”.  I have a history of interpreting signs.  Do we all?  Two interpretations arose simultaneously, “Well, this means either I better post this poem on Facebook” AND “I better never post this poem anywhere.”

I sent the poem to seven friends via email.  One friend declared it a masterpiece; the other said it did “nothing” for her.  (Ha ha, don’t you love how life offers every single opinion to a poem that lassoes you from the couch and drags you to the computer? Poor poem.  She better develop a stiff upper lip.)

I decided to restart Lake Superior Spirit once again just in case another poem lassoed me.  To save the life of innocent partridges.  But this morning–all prepared to share the poem with you–another thought appeared.

Pardon me, sheep

Pardon me, sheep

“The poem is such old news,” I sighed.  “If it could have been shared last Wednesday–well, then it was alive.  It was alive with passion, intensity, LIFE!  Now it feels dead.  Like do I even believe it anymore?  Last week I believed it totally.  Now the herd has rumbled across the prairie and it’s a new dawn and I don’t quite 100% feel this way anymore. Although most of me does.”

Dear reader, I started this blog convinced I would not show the poem with you.  I would write instead about what’s alive in the moment, and how that can change every single moment. But every story contains twists and turns.  What’s alive now is that the poem keeps insisting.  It has a right to express itself.  It has a right to wave its flag even in the face of your reluctance.  What’s alive here is the STORY of the poem.  So here goes, brothers and sisters:

The laborers; those who struggle

For all my brothers and sisters, everywhere.  For the “we” as well as the “me”

The herd is our brother, too

Oh my beloveds waving flags for herd immunity,

Oh my beloveds singing individual rights,

Oh my beloveds frustrated with COVID 19, cautious governors,

mercurial presidents, the caged walls of your precious home,

monotony of endless days cooped up chattering like chickens over Zoom.

I ask:  Who are you willing to sacrifice?  Which of the herd shall die?

Your grandmother in assisted living?  Your grandpa with diabetes?

Your aunt with digestive woes, your uncle’s feeble heart?

You who praise the immune system, the shining blood cells, the sturdy liver.

You who praise Right Diet and Healthy Jogging. Yoga, Pilates, fresh air.

All ye who eat rice and beans and kale and zucchini shall live.

All ye who supper fish and broccoli and sweet potatoes shall live.

All ye who decry white sugar and white flour and white potatoes shall live.

All ye with stellar willpower and fiery dedication to Right Ways of stalwart body shall live,

Oh my beloveds ye shall live and conquer while COVID sweeps its broom behind you

in city trenches grabbing poor, homeless, congregating church goers,

unhealthy lovers of Oreos, voters, front line nurses and doctors,

the overweight, underweight, frail, sick, elderly:  we’ll cull you,

we’ll chop your weeds, disown you, death you, oh you herd,

as precious immunity births like a red flower rising in sidewalk crack.

Get ye to your golf courses, your up north cottages, your hair salons,

Your restaurants, your Central Parks.  Get ye to your airplanes, your hobbies,

Your white-collar jobs.  Take off your masks.

Pump the economy with the blood of Aunt Mabel

And Cousin Jim, unfortunates.  Those without willpower.

Those without the golden egg of how to survive a virus or even common cold.

With questionable death counts because you can’t trust governments, politicians, media,

Scientists, hospitals, or WHO.

You trust herd immunity, and perhaps you’re right.  I sigh.

Oh my beloveds, stay safe.  I do not want you to die.  But the herd is my brother, too.

The herd is our brother, too. 

About Kathy

I live in the middle of the woods in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Next to Lake Superior's cold shores. I love to blog.
This entry was posted in May, 2020 and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

58 Responses to The herd is our brother, too

  1. Robert Allan Thompson says:

    So wonderful to see your words Kathy Bobz from Hazard. KY

    • Kathy says:

      Hi, Bobz. Nice to see you, too! 🙂

    • Reggie says:

      BOBZ!! I just spotted your comment! 😀

      Kathy, as you probably know, Bobz is my ‘oldest’ penpal; we ‘met’ through the Radio Netherlands ‘Happy Station’ Penpal Club in the late 1980s. We only meet face to face in 2012. Gosh, that is sooo long ago!

      • Kathy says:

        Reggie, every time Bobz comments here I remember your connection with him. And that you met him during your visit to the States. I think it’s wonderful how you have such long faithful penpals!

        • Reggie says:

          I agree, it is truly wonderful to have friends around the world – even ones we’ve never met in person. May we one day meet face to face, for a cup of tea, or a stroll in nature, or something delightful like that. It may be a while yet until international travel is possible again, though. But we can dream! 😀

  2. Sadly, there is a group of people making the decisions who are above the herd. Not shepherds but those who see themselves as lords, princes and kings who take, take and take without a care for the herd which sustains them. They will eventually realize this but I fear it then be too late. Thank you for your poem.

    • Kathy says:

      Wouldn’t it feel lovely to think of our leaders as shepherds? Lovingly thinking about the group of us, the weak as well as the strong? I want so badly to embrace the “we” of ourselves while simultaneously tending to the unique expression of each of the individual precious sheep. I do see some leaders trying to accomplish it, but the fears of many individuals losing their rights have been triggered. I see this happened so similar during the Pandemic of 1918. If you read some of the stories it’s the same thing. People arguing individual versus herd mentality in all kinds of ways. So nice to see you here today, Scott. It’s been awhile for both of us!

  3. Susan D. Durham says:

    Oh sweet morning to see this published here! You know how I feel about it. Thank you for sharing! So much love…

  4. Stacy says:

    I love the poem that lassoed you. I’ll never understand what is so difficult about being at home. But then, I’m a card-carrying introvert so isolation is right up my tree. XOXO

    • Kathy says:

      The poem thanks you, Stacy, and so do I. Card-carrying introverts seem to be looking all around going, “Whazz the big deal bout this?” *smile* I am actually an introvert, too, that does extroverting at times. Love!

  5. Carol says:

    Kathy, goosebumps. We have become such an entitled society (in the selfish sense of the word), so unwilling to sacrifice our comforts, our pleasures. Is this payback time?

    • Kathy says:

      I have no idea, Carol. Our nation was founded on such a strong sense of individuality. Our human egos so often demand entitlement. There is great fear about losing individual rights. This fear drives a lot of behavior, from many who don’t even sense the (often) unconscious fears lying beneath. Part of the growing up of our human egos seems to be a movement toward “we” mentality. Not at the expense of the “me” mentality, but as an ever-widening circle that loves more and more and more. Just my thoughts. Thank you for reading this.

  6. jeffstroud says:

    First of all, what a tease you are! LOL
    That/this poem was not going to let go in anyway shape or form until you sent off here. You managed to cull it’s strength for a while with your beginning story of your process of poems conception and birth… stringing us along as you were strung along with your doubt and fear of poem’s acceptance. Well here it is in all it’s glory, all it’s truths and hidden message. Well done. When we have to the need to express the unexpressable we have to go with our intuition or it will chase us ever after…

    • Kathy says:

      Jeff, Jeff–I swear I am not a tease. It was the poem! That poem was an utter tease. I had no idea it would come out of the herd and demand a spot in this post. It was like a stampede! Seriously, though, you are right. We need to heed our intuition or who knows what will happen? Thanks for reading.

  7. I wrote an entire paragraph as a response and then lost it because of having to log on to word press and forgot my password. Gah!

    • Kathy says:

      James, how dare the Universe swallow your comment! I am sorry it went awol. I swear you can never tell what’s going to happen next. Either a poem/comment insists upon publication or it doesn’t…

  8. What I said was thank you for posting this. Doing so will encourage the rest of us to write and be bold with our thoughts. Your poem has nuggets of truth for those who will take the time to read it slowly and mine it for the gold that is there. At very least it will give people pause and give them a new perspective to think about.

    • Kathy says:

      See, James, I spoke too quickly! Your comment wanted to be published after all. Thank you for reading slowly (and making it through the long story beforehand). It makes me happy that you’ve suggested that people will truly ponder a new perspective. It seems that too many of us just want to argue or debate endlessly instead of truly thinking and expanding. So thank YOU!

      • I believe that a certain measure of objectivity is required when listening to what other people have to say. Listening requires that we truly LISTEN without trying to formulate our response to what is being said. After all, whom amongst us have arrived at all knowledge and understanding? I know I have not.

  9. Robin says:

    Thank you for sharing your poem, Kathy. I love it, very much, and I’m glad it insisted upon being published here. I often wonder what the world might be like if we all truly cared for and looked out for each other.

    • Kathy says:

      Robin, “imagine all the people, living life in peace”…some John Lennon going around in this head after reading your comment. Thank you for liking the little poem. It was such a process bringing her to full birth here. xoxo

  10. sherrysescape says:

    Preach on, sister! I am 100% with you on this. Nice poem.

  11. debyemm says:

    Thank you for letting your poem out. It expresses much my heart has been pondering as well. As much as it pains me . . . we’re all born to die. Somehow I believe this pandemic is Mother Earth’s doing to balance things out. I once had an over-populated aquarium (snails with a few assorted fishies). I did nothing but witness (kind of feels like that for me now too though I do gear up to go to the grocery store – more for those putting their lives on the line to feed my family – than for me but if I get some protection, more’s the better). I don’t know what is the right thing to do under the circumstances. I am awed by all of it.

    • Kathy says:

      Hi Deb, good morning. Yes, this perspective may be true. When we’re overpopulated, nature often culls. The herd does get culled. I keep thinking of that story–what was it?–about millions of starfish washing ashore and some boy throws them back into the water one by one. A passerby wonders why it would possibly matter to throw back a few dozen when millions are perishing. The boy replies, “It matters to this one”. That’s the story that keeps coming back to me. It matters to this compromised one. It matters to this compromised one. It matters to this one. Thanks for sharing. I am open-mouthed about it all, too.

      • debyemm says:

        It matters certainly or else I would not be doing my part to mitigate the damage. I am being forced to go through tons of clutter due to a remodeling effort. I saved a lot of Christmas, Birthday, Mother’s Day Cards in the late 1990s, early 2000s. I am trying to keep only what is special or unique. As I sift through them – so many of these people have died – long ago – not from this virus. I certainly do not want to directly experience this virus and I do want to survive but in doing this de-cluttering work, the full impact of the inevitability of death comes upon my heart and a kind of acceptance and trust in the nature of all things takes over.

        • Kathy says:

          Yes, I know you have a great love for every single starfish. That’s one of the things I admire about you. ❤

          • debyemm says:

            Thanks for always “seeing” my heart. Yours is even more beautiful, it seems from here.

            • Kathy says:

              Nope! That’s where I gotta draw the line, sister! All of our hearts are beautiful expressions of “God” expressing in this wild & confusing & precious & awful & beautiful moment. None more beautiful or ugly than the other, although our minds (at least my mind) might try to convince us it’s so. And that doesn’t mean we do nothing to prevent injustice, as you well know. Nice talking about things that matter today with you.

  12. dawnkinster says:

    This is wonderful. At least 50% of our world will love it. 30% will hate it. 20% won’t understand that you’re talking to them. I’m sorry about the partridge – do you have a recipe for partridge?? I hit a pheasant once while driving the truck. She went through the grill and into the radiator. A semi driver stopped to help me and asked if he could have her. I said sure. Not something that happens every day, thank goodness.

    • Kathy says:

      Dawn, aren’t you so right?! I love your percentages. It puts things all in perspective. OK, here is what we usually do with the few partridge life has given us. I open a can of cream of mushroom soup, maybe cut up some mushrooms or onions, and put it all in the slow cooker or oven until it’s tender. I used to be all squeamish about eating partridge, but it really does taste a lot like chicken.

  13. Lori says:

    I’m not sure which herd is being referred to in this poem. Whatsoever we believe about this topic or anything else, the herd is usually the group that doesn’t believe the same things as the herd “I’m in.” I put that in quotes, because I don’t necessarily mean me. I mean that people tend to accuse others who think independently from what someone else believes as following a herd. If that makes any sense.

    We may disagree, but I’m super proud of you for not allowing your fear of naysayers or opposing views to stop you from posting a poem you feel passionate about. Sometimes, once in a while, people need to hear each others’ truths. No matter how hard we try not to offend, someone, somewhere, somehow, gets offended. We each need to sparkle our own unique color, even if it clashes with another, all of the colors together make a lovely kaleidoscope. 🤷‍♀️💗

    • Kathy says:

      Lori, thank you for such a lovely comment! I am learning soooo much during this pandemic about me and other people and how to show up more authentically and allow others their own expression of authenticity. But it’s a work in progress. Sometimes it takes awhile to digest the feelings that come up in me.

      I never thought about how the herd can basically mean the other group. What an insight! So right. I have heard folks from “both sides” carrying on about sheeple. I hate that term. (Why do I hate that term? hmmmm, seems so derogatory and doesn’t take into consideration that we’re all part of a “herd” and we’re also simultaneously individual expressions of God.)

      Also thank you about being proud of me letting the poem have its say. One of my greatest fears is losing people I love because we think differently. That may be delusionary, and in some ways it may be. But it feels like this has happened throughout history and generations. I LOVE so many people who think differently. They are truly my beloveds. I can also feel angry feelings rise up within me…I would not want to lose Person XYZ and ZYX because we disagree about government, politics, coronavirus. I want to be at their deathbed holding hands and singing praises to their life. This little poem may have made XYZ so angry that she’ll never forgive. So these two forces exist within me. The little poem can have her say over here in blogging world. Perhaps XYZ and ZYX will see this, if the Universe insists. Then we’ll see what happens. Thanks again, Lori, for your words. You have helped me so much!

      • Lori says:

        Hi Kathy. Thank you for taking my comment in the spirit in which it was meant. I too, worry I’ll be misunderstood. So thank you for understanding.

        I understand your concerns about how your friends might perceive your poem or politics. I hope you don’t mind if I share my feelings on this.

        I wrote a blog post somewhat recently about losing some longtime friends (from the 90s) over politics. These people should know my heart by now. They should know ME by now, so it hurt that they threw away such a longtime friendship. I’ve known for some time now that you and I hold similar/same spiritual beliefs but not on politics. I know you by now and know that your politics come from a place of caring, not malice. Unfortunately, my ex-friends didn’t see me the same way, even after knowing me for so long. I’ve not unfriended anyone ever, because I believe in free speech, even if it’s something that I don’t like (and even when I’ve seen others get nasty). For example, I don’t like paisley, but I wouldn’t unfriend someone for decorating their house in paisley. It’s their choice, their expression of individuality, their consequences for however it looks.

        I try not to post about politics on my blog or on my author social media accounts. However, I’m deeply embedded in politics (I was actually raised in a political home). I have separate accounts away from my friends and my author’s name where I go to discuss politics much more frequently. However, I do warn friends that if they bring up politics on any of their social media, I will likely respond. In other words, I won’t bring it up, but if someone else does, that’s a “go” for me. I like to show that their views are not the only ones. That too, has lost me friends, but I am who I am, good or bad. I don’t mean to generalize, but I’m Italian and have been bred to debate.

        Here’s a link to my post, which pretty much says what I’ve written here anyway. 🤷‍♀️

        • Kathy says:

          I am so enjoying this conversation. Learning so much, relaxing into this. I come from a Republican small-business family and became the “black sheep” as a liberal Democrat. My dad used to shake his head back and forth (really, so endearingly) telling me that some day I would “see the truth”. He was convinced that it was just a stage. But he always loved me unconditionally, no matter what. My mom, too. But not all family members and friends feel the same way… I mostly only talk politics with those of similar viewpoints, mostly because it seems most people don’t want to hear opposite viewpoints. They seem to want to try their hardest to convince.

          It is so cool when we can acknowledge our similar interest AND our dissimilar ones. I feel like it’s always a learning curve how to navigate these waters. I am trying to learn this more every day, and it’s so in all our faces. I have SO MANY friends and family whom I love to the moon & back who think differently. But there’s also sometimes a voice in my head that wants everyone to think like me, la la la. A wish comes up to be able to someday not respond with any reactivity but listen with a totally open heart. I am not quite there yet, but sometimes…. xoxoxo and off to see your blog.

          • Lori says:

            Boy Kathy, you’ve got my mind reeling now. I’m enjoying the conversation, too, and you may be sorry, I can tend to go on. When I first started voting (at 18), I remember telling my dad I voted for the women on the ballot, because you know, girl power and all. 🤷‍♀‍ He thought I was an idiot, and now I realize he was right. I had no idea what the women represented. I never even checked.

            My mind doesn’t go to wanting my friends to think like me. Where I go in my head is, “I don’t get it. I wish I could understand why they don’t see it the way I do. It’s so clear to me and I don’t get how it’s not clear to them.” I’d sincerely like to understand them without having to agree.

            I think many of us fear the foundation of our belief system crumbling. I’ve had mine crumble several times in my life. One was my spiritual faith that crumbled, and I had to find a new way. It was scary, but it’s so much better now. Another belief of mine crumbled after the last big election, and I had to re-evaluate. I tend to introspect to see if it’s me that’s seeing things muddled and/or what role I played in a problem. I know my assertiveness can get me in trouble sometimes, but do my ex-friends ever realize their own missteps? 😕 It still stings a little, in case you couldn’t tell.

            Thank you for this nice conversation. The more I learn about you, the more I can understand why you believe what you do. 🙂

            • Kathy says:

              Once again, I so enjoyed our conversation yesterday. Made for a really special day. Thanks for sharing so much of yourself with such honesty, Lori. ❤

  14. It’s a very poignant poem, Kathy. ♡ How this pandemic should be handled is beyond me. I can understand both positions and wish there was some good way to balance the needs of the herd and of the individual. Our poor mayor is grappling with the decision of whether to open the beach this summer. The vitriolic comments people are leaving about each other’s ideas in the beach’s Facebook group are leaving me speechless. A small representation of the mood in the rest of the country, I’m sure. I’d hate to be a mayor or a governor just now. Your poem strikes a cord with me.

    • Kathy says:

      Oh dear Barbara, I simply cannot imagine being in a position of making decisions for so many people. There are so many aspects to our lives. There are so many parts, from health to economy to rights to loving compliance. What writing this blog is teaching me (a little bit) is a greater acceptance for the many different viewpoints, and yet an honoring of the viewpoint which is arising in me. Glad this struck a chord with you. I am kinda amazed people read through the long convoluted story to even get to the poem at the end!

  15. Love the poem and it is “spot on” as far as I am concerned. I just shake my head in utter astonishment when I see pics and read about the individuals that reject all sensibility concerning the current health crisis. So thank you for the poem and for you being you. I am behind you 100%. I am a retired RN and I know about disease and illness and I am very worried about the present and the future. Losing health care workers due to lack of PPE should not have happened. Unbelievable how cavalier and mismanaged the pandemic has been.

    • Kathy says:

      Yvonne, thanks for the reminder (if I ever knew) about you being a retired RN. And am glad you loved the poem. Not sure where we’re headed in the future with this. My great-grandmother died during the pandemic of 1918. Not sure if it happened during the first or second wave of it. It left my grandma and her sister orphaned, and they were sent to Michigan to live with relatives.

  16. Ally Bean says:

    I wonder if all of us here, your commenters, are yearning to be part of a healthy herd, forced as we are to witness such imbalanced behavior around us. I like your poem and its message of hope. At least to me it seems hopeful, if only because you took the time to write it when so many other people are spewing vitriol.

    • Kathy says:

      I am really enjoying hearing everyone’s thoughts here. To be part of a healthy herd…yes, I am sure most of us here would want that. Maybe in a way that wouldn’t disclaim our individuality. Am glad you liked the little poem and thought it was hopeful. That means a lot.

  17. Barb says:

    Kathy, the strangest thing just happened. I read your post and was reading the comments when BANG. I knew a bird had flown against the dining room window. I went to look and there were gray feathers smeared on the glass, but as I scoured the rock garden still under snow for signs of a body, I couldn’t find one. Maybe it survived? Did your words -the poem- bring it to me? I am here in isolation at the edge of wilderness. My days are quiet but purposeful. I’m sure I’m considered one of the “compromised” but I don’t really like that label. People are making decisions every moment about my future – what’s “best” for me. Meanwhile, I know what’s best and protect myself (and others) by using common sense practices. This virus has become so politicized, and there is so much fear mongering and anger. I turn away from the “news” on most days. Poetry, on the other hand, I read gratefully. I remind myself that my heart has no room for divisiveness. (Sometimes I need to remind myself of that many times a day!) Stay well, Kathy. Keep pondering and keep writing. Barb

    • Kathy says:

      Barb, so nice to see you again. How very interesting about your bird hitting the window while reading the post. We seem to be connected through the ethers, perhaps even through the vehicle of the “rock woman” or “stone woman”. Glad your bird wasn’t harmed. Happy to hear the poem didn’t feel divisive to you. It had so much energy behind it I was not sure how it would end up feeling to others. Will keep on writing as long as this latest wave lasts! Today I posted game cam pictures of a bear that visited us last weekend. Blessings, Kathy

  18. mhbnicoletti says:

    What an absolute blessing reading this post! I loved the way you described your relationship with this poem – you really captured what it feels like to be a writer!

    • Kathy says:

      I was so happy reading your comment. Glad you appreciated the writer’s bent! That’s what made me the happiest while writing this blog post.

  19. Thank you for posting the poem. I was worried as I was reading your post that you weren’t going to!

    I am glad you are back here sharing the things you think about.

    • Kathy says:

      Lunar, I seriously didn’t know if I was going to post the poem until the end! P.S. It’s good to be posting again here, too. Nice to see some pals from the blogging world, including you!

  20. Reggie says:

    Oh dear Kathy, what a powerful poem that was… I too found the term ‘herd immunity’ sitting very uneasily with me, so you’ve captured it well.

    I too would not like to be a president or governor responsible for making decisions as to how much to open or close, tighten or loosen the restrictions… there is no easy or clear path to follow. In our country, the repercussions for the economy and for people’s health will be dire no matter what our government does. People will die regardless of what they decide, whether through the spread of COVID-19, the overwhelmment of the health system, or the further collapse of the economy and the dramatic increase in poverty. It’s bleak.

    And yet we cling to hope, because not everyone will die of this virus, and because some people, of all ages, are asymptomatic and/or they recover on their own, and because we may, sometime, perhaps, develop an immunity to this… And so we get up every day, and try our best to stay present, and we reach out to others, and try to lighten their load, or share a smile (behind our masks), or send them blessings, or we listen to their stories and their fears… there are so many ways of being kind to each other.

    Lots of love, dear Kathy, and many blessings to you.

    • Kathy says:

      Reggie, it IS bleak in so many ways and there IS hope and there ARE ways to be kind to one another. I touch in on this sense of peace and knowing, and then lose it, and then touch in on it again. Your words bring me comfort. ❤

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