I wrote this poem as part of my own processing of feelings and sensations that have come as a result of the explosion in my community last Monday, September 16th. I share this poem with my sincere empathy and compassion for those directly affected by the blast.
I have experienced sudden loss that had direct impact twice in my life - once just days before my 30th birthday when my only brother was killed in a biking accident, and the second at the age of 45 when my husband died while playing tennis with friends. Over time a unique voice emerged that has become my way of telling the more emotional side of a story so my logical side can make some sense of challenging life experiences. I often look back on my writing and feel my heart warm with the recognition that, even when I wasn't fully aware it was there, hope has been a constant.
I took this picture on the way back into Farmington last evening. I had spent the day participating in an organized bike ride and visiting family. It felt healthy to be out and about, but good to be coming home, too. The following poem began forming as I drove and was coming through pretty strongly as I approached town. This scene greeted me as I drove toward Farmington Falls.
I share this with wishes that it may help readers access hope in their own way, in their own time.
Emergence of Hope
Concussive blows,
some quiet and others undeniably loud,
are something we humans experience
in varied ways and, usually,
at unexpected times.
In my small town of Farmington, Maine
we had one of catastrophic size and scope.
In an instant life was lost,
severe injuries happened,
homes destroyed.
The whole town literally shook to its core.
Many students came to school
having heard the blast followed by
‘white stuff raining down’ on them at their bus stops.
We teachers were told of an explosion
and the canceling of a yearly field trip
to Agriculture Education Day at our local fair.
With wonders of the cause in the backs of our minds,
students entering the building
full of questions for which, at that point,
we had no answers,
we did what teachers do.
Moving into a day of sporadic
information that slowly
painted a profoundly tragic picture,
we gently spent time with the
diverse young beings in our care,
all the while dealing with
varied connections and feelings of our own.
And then a few days later
we wore red in support
of all who were deeply and directly
affected by the blast.
Outside on our playground we gathered,
over 300 strong,
a sea of red community spirit.
I happened to be standing near a student
who turned to offer heartfelt support to another.
It took a moment for understanding to come,
as a genuine smile gradually spread
across the receiver’s face.
A beautiful reminder
of the compassion and resilience
of our youth,
of us all,
and the undeniable emergence of hope
that can be a such a powerful partner
to tragedy.
Concussive blows,
some quiet and others undeniably loud,
are something we humans experience
in varied ways and, usually,
at unexpected times.
In my small town of Farmington, Maine
we had one of catastrophic size and scope.
In an instant life was lost,
severe injuries happened,
homes destroyed.
The whole town literally shook to its core.
Many students came to school
having heard the blast followed by
‘white stuff raining down’ on them at their bus stops.
We teachers were told of an explosion
and the canceling of a yearly field trip
to Agriculture Education Day at our local fair.
With wonders of the cause in the backs of our minds,
students entering the building
full of questions for which, at that point,
we had no answers,
we did what teachers do.
Moving into a day of sporadic
information that slowly
painted a profoundly tragic picture,
we gently spent time with the
diverse young beings in our care,
all the while dealing with
varied connections and feelings of our own.
And then a few days later
we wore red in support
of all who were deeply and directly
affected by the blast.
Outside on our playground we gathered,
over 300 strong,
a sea of red community spirit.
I happened to be standing near a student
who turned to offer heartfelt support to another.
It took a moment for understanding to come,
as a genuine smile gradually spread
across the receiver’s face.
A beautiful reminder
of the compassion and resilience
of our youth,
of us all,
and the undeniable emergence of hope
that can be a such a powerful partner
to tragedy.
Sarah Carlson
September 22, 2019
