Across the world, seeking hope

This week is the long-awaited (and oft-postponed) trip to the Vatican for a delegation of Indigenous people. They're there to see the pope on what I feel is an excursion for hope. Hope for an apology from the pope on behalf of the Catholic Church, hope for meaningful settlements and the return of plundered artifacts, hope most of all, for healing. 

The group ranges from elders to youth, all of whom have been affected in some way by the trauma of residential schools, whether because they attended these 'schools' or whether they're among the many affected by the generational after-effects. 

I love the fact that music is one of the gifts being brought to the pope. Here's a link to a 45-second video of two young Métis who brought along their fiddles. 

Spring-ish

Although the official equinox was yesterday, it's today that I'm observing the first full day of spring here on the west coast. 

I'm also noting that today is World Poetry Day, an observance that I suppose most of the world manages to miss. 

This year, as part of that observance (it's hard to call much of anything a 'celebration' during these dark days), there's a YouTube channel that's featuring the work of quite a few poets who've been writing in support of the brave people of Ukraine. 

It's been a sad time here, with two darling friends dying last week -- one day after the other. Neither of them came as a big surprise, as both had major health issues which meant their time was running low, but sad nonetheless, as both are friends I will greatly miss. 

So maybe that's why my otherwise bright-eyed daffodil appears to be a little droopier than might be expected. 

I can only trust that brighter days are coming soon -- not only here, but also for the rest of the world. 

What's up?

Or, I guess I should say -- what's still up -- at least for now?

It's great to see these trees marked off as protected (I assume that's what they meant by 'procected'), though it's been my experience that even the protective 'orange gates' aren't always enough to keep a tree from being cut down. 

Last year a tree on our street which appeared to have been granted 'orange gate' status, was taken down. One day, the gate was magically gone and a crew of guys were taking the tree (mature and healthy-looking) down, no permit visible. All that remains of it now is a poem I wrote about it. Small comfort. 

You can bet that I'll be paying close attention to the presence of the orange gates in the picture above, and hoping that for once, they'll actually do the job of protecting or even 'procecting' the grove of mature trees still standing behind the barrier. 

Helpless

That's the word for what I've been feeling lately. Unable to do anything about all that's going on. 

The horrific bombing of civilians in Ukraine leaves me feeling empty, drained. My little vase with sunflowers and forsythia branches is all I have in the way of small hopes. The sunflower, with its face turning ever towards the warmth of the sun, is a symbol of Ukraine, the national flower. And the forsythia, with its fat little buds, will open soon with a promise for spring. 

Sadly, on a much smaller scale, is the peril I am feeling for the fate of my city, with its optimistic sounding slogan, The Future Lives Here. 

Considering the swaths of trees that have been disappeared along the King George Highway (oops, more rebranding, as it's now called King George Boulevard, aka KGB), it's not going to be a very green future. Somehow I've always had it in mind that the word 'boulevard' suggests an elegant, tree-lined route. Not any more, not here. This despite the many cautions about climate change heating up and the necessity to protect and plant as many trees as we can. 

Even as I am typing this, the City Council is, I believe, about to rubber-stamp approval for fourth and final reading on the fate of lands abutting the Tata'lu/Little Campbell River, the area that's been rebranded with the gentrified name, South Campbell Heights -- which sounds more like a suburb in a Nancy Drew book than a plan to pave an aquifer. 

Helpless as well in that I can't even manage to open the supposed live-stream access to the Council meeting. Not that I would have been able to do anything, but I believe it's important to bear witness when we can. 

Which, I suppose, is why I keep watching tv news -- to bear witness to the massacre and destruction in Ukraine. All I've been able to do towards helping has been to make a donation to the Canadian Red Cross, where I believe the federal government is still matching what we give. 

Hoping that all of us will find our own ways of honouring all that's going on during these times that feel more and more like the defeat of goodness, the triumph of evil, sometimes like maybe the end of the world.