not to kill ourselves with a nameless gnawing pain

Like so many, I have been asking myself, what can I do? And the answer seems to be: my job. That's it. I've given my bit of pen money to the ACLU. And I've read a lot of poetry over the last few days, of which some follows.

"Quarantine", Eavan Boland

"Fix", Alice Fulton

"Flight 1067 to LA", Ursula Le Guin

"To be of use", Marge Piercy

"What Everyone Should Know About Grief", Ingrid de Kok

"Note To Self At A Certain Point In The Future", Michael Bazzett

"Nightmare At Noon" (1940), Stephen Vincent Bénet

and "The Art of Making Possible", Nancy Scheibner, via Hillary Rodham Clinton.