Libby Bruce

Note: I wrote this poem back in August 2025, but I ran across it again today after my walk in the snow, and it seemed oddly appropriate for this winter day.

The tide comes in and in,

always in, never out. 

The people are frightened, screaming.

I remember Vesuvius, the shaking

streets buckled, frescos cracked, the tide came in and in and in, burning and burying and carrying things away

I cut handfuls of herbs and bundle them,

I lay on a blanket in the sun, brush the cats

Pick sunflowers for my kitchen table

Arrange them in a red glass vase, think of Gaza, wish flowers on Gazas, flowers and bread. 

Bread and roses.

The tide rises

I remember how my papaw fought the nazis

(the literal nazis)

watched Charles die, got hit by a grenade

came home and joined the union

Squatting in the sun digging weeds, next year I’ll do more preserves, next year I’ll have a fig tree

arranging my little gnomes, burning incense,  watering, smoking grass

are you there god? 

it’s me

Still the tide comes in and in, the frightened people scream

I see my future changing shape, I wonder if I am brave enough

brave like papaw

before the world twisted me into this strange shape, I was a little girl

and when I was a little girl I wanted a flower garden and many cats

to have psychic powers, live on the farm, be fabulous, make art, Sing, preserve the old ways

to be kind to children and animals, to know the names of plants and trees, to make things by hand, to be strong and safe. So, I tell her, “look, sweet child, you have everything you wanted. just look and see.” 

I take off my muddy overalls, sink into hot water and epsom salt

I exfoliate and put on my satin kimono, I take a nap with my animals. I am at peace, I am safe, I am strong. This is real life, barefoot in the garden, smelling dirt, carrying water, touching magic, learning where the spiders live, yanking up thistles. There are people who have never seen a firefly.

And in the tide comes

in and in and in, 

the earth shakes, the mighty columns crumble

I deepen my roots, reclaim the earth on which I stand

I plug into the power source, blow out the speakers

I am safe and I am strong, I say, holding agony and peace together in the same hand as the distant mountain rumbles and quakes