Since there are no coincidences (but maybe Fate, Irony, & Karma high-five at times) this poem, written a while back (during—without putting too fine a point on it—a time when America was in turmoil, a time I figured, no matter what else happened, we would never repeat), went live this week via one of my favorite lit mags, Exterminating Angel Press. I offer it up for everyone and anyone who can read words written for one occasion that may apply to a separate occasions. I offer it up with a healthy dose of sadness, disappointment, confusion, but mostly an unwavering conviction. Words matter. Stories matter. Kindness matters. Love matters. Art matters. I know what I believe, who and what I love, and everything that follows will flow from that reality. Peace.
Countervailing Forces
An email, an angry thought,
a meditation, a prayer; ill-will
directed toward those who thrive
on the perpetuated misery
of those accommodating it.
A severed friendship, letters
to the editor, a withholding
of affection, a refusal to smile
mutely while the usual suspects
recite talking points from pundits.
Do you ponder that parable of starfish
and construe futility? If so, are you able
to understand all politics are local—
and there are monied interests invested
in your insistence on remaining aloof?
Can you hear the muted pangs of hunger
as you lament the ten pounds you should
lose? Does a healthy 401-K feel solidarity
with anyone silenced, by force, for fear
that their truth makes complicity intolerable?
Might you smile—and mean it—next time
another commuter, harried and late for work
is striving to be two places at once, a triumph
of late-stage capitalism? Will you be willing
to alleviate this world’s unceasing chokehold?
Do you dare dream of a different reality
where one more stomach is filled, one less
company is acquired, one less rape goes
unreported, or one more tongue’s restored
to a mouth burning to bear witness?
Good. This, at least, is a start. Allow it
to grow into something bigger—and better.
