When I listen to my thoughts, I often hear songs. Lately, though, I’ve been hearing words: muted, numb.
Someone on the news notes that many are suffering from outrage fatigue. I wonder if we aren’t angry enough. I wonder what will happen if the anger boils over. In our most recent staff meeting, we discussed the efforts at play to destroy our election process. This is muted language for the destruction of democracy.
In graduate school the standing advice was to avoid writing poems about current events. Emotions will flare and become too sentimental. This is language meant to numb one from processing the present.
Someone on the news notes that many are suffering from outrage fatigue. I wonder if we aren’t angry enough. I wonder what will happen if the anger boils over. In our most recent staff meeting, we discussed the efforts at play to destroy our election process. This is muted language for the destruction of democracy.
In graduate school the standing advice was to avoid writing poems about current events. Emotions will flare and become too sentimental. This is language meant to numb one from processing the present.
Today I wrote a poem about a smoke covered sun and a bluebird who took peanuts from a woman’s palm. This is language for what we give and what we take.
I’m tired. I’m outraged. I won't succumb to inaction.
Aren't you anxious for bluer skies?
I’m tired. I’m outraged. I won't succumb to inaction.
Aren't you anxious for bluer skies?