Eschatology
Eve L. Ewing
i’m confident that the absolute dregs of possibility for this society,
the sugary coffee mound at the bottom of this cup,
our last best hope that when our little bit of assigned plasma implodes
it won’t go down as a green mark in the cosmic ledger,
lies in the moment when you say hello to a bus driver
and they say it back—
when someone holds the door open for you
and you do a little jog to meet them where they are—
walking my dog, i used to see this older man
and whenever I said good morning,
he replied ‘GREAT morning’—
in fact, all the creative ways our people greet each other
may be the icing on this flaming trash cake hurtling through the ether.
when the clerk says how are you
and i say ‘i’m blessed and highly favored’
i mean my toes have met sand, and wiggled in it, a lot.
i mean i have laughed until i choked and a friend slapped my back.
i mean my niece wrote me a note: ‘you are so smart + intellajet’
i mean when we do go careening into the sun,
i’ll miss crossing guards ushering the grown folks too, like ducklings
and the lifeguards at the community pool and
men who yelled out the window that they’d fix the dent in my car,
right now! it’d just take a second—
and actually everyone who tried to keep me alive, keep me afloat,
and if not unblemished, suitably repaired.
but I won’t feel too sad about it,
becoming a star
Copyright © 2024 by Eve L. Ewing. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 6, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.
When my mom texted me to make sure I was okay after the last poem I posted, I realized, okay, yes, that was a little heavy. Then my friend Emily sent me this one, Eschatology, by Eve L. Ewing, and I thought this would be the perfect counterpoint to mine. (In fact, I wish I had written this poem! It is wonderful.) They are both equally true.
There are so many truths we carry around with us, every minute of every day, some seemingly totally contradictory. But I don’t see these two as especially contradictory—more complementary. The world is indeed full of pain and suffering and that weight can be very heavy. But at the very same time, you can take that pain with you onto the bus, and as you mount the steps, say hello to the driver, and he looks right at you with his dancing, smiling eyes, holding his hand out with transfers in case you need one, and says hi back—already you feel some of the weight lifting from your heart.
There’s a guy on TikTok, Instagram, and FB, Roshaun Diah, who gives a rose and little note of support to random strangers. Both men and women. He has an accomplice videoing it from out of sight. It’s fascinating. A guy going through the world trying to help other people feel better, trying to make them feel less alone, and like they are valued, for no reason other than that.