3 years ago
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Posted On: November 21st 2023, 12:01 am
What am I ? A molecule in an ever expanding, if pointlessly diminishing, universe.
Every person is a universe, said a friend. She meant that when one vanishes, goes with them a constellation of others. And existence grows all that quieter.
Another friend said death is negligible on the march to liberation. I couldn’t find myself to agree despite all the love in the world I have for her. It’s been days since we spoke and so far our line is out. The lonely wolves.
A report reads that 1 in 3 Americans believe that “breaking some rules” to “set things right” is acceptable. I’m in the bathtub, listening to French rap, typing in my phone, and I’m alarmed by what rules one in three of us might be willing to break to set straight what they believe is wrong.
Whose stomach doesn’t sour at the sight of a child born too soon to a world unprepared for beauty? I won’t look away until my heart breaks at the fact of this tiny undernourished universe. It would be a blessing if they survived to their first conscious thoughts, a miracle if they lived long enough to utter, “war.” And we would have won what precisely? Another generation of holy spite.
Who are the gay guerrillas and why have they traded the fierce power of love for weak weapons of terrorism and state warfare? Show me a past that’s ever been won with the tools of the master?
Everywhere I look, all I see are men. With guns and plans and hot tempers. With god on their side and women and children under their feet. Everywhere I look, all I see are men under the boots of other men. Poor men soldiers, poor men résistants, indentured to desert kings and political lackeys. I see a war by proxy. I see that like every other instance of this sort of thing, it’s the women and the children who pay the highest price.
Tonight the universe is scarce. A dim silence. Even the radio is off. The future, oh the future…
Image of the Great Salt Lake, November 2023.
Every person is a universe, said a friend. She meant that when one vanishes, goes with them a constellation of others. And existence grows all that quieter.
Another friend said death is negligible on the march to liberation. I couldn’t find myself to agree despite all the love in the world I have for her. It’s been days since we spoke and so far our line is out. The lonely wolves.
A report reads that 1 in 3 Americans believe that “breaking some rules” to “set things right” is acceptable. I’m in the bathtub, listening to French rap, typing in my phone, and I’m alarmed by what rules one in three of us might be willing to break to set straight what they believe is wrong.
Whose stomach doesn’t sour at the sight of a child born too soon to a world unprepared for beauty? I won’t look away until my heart breaks at the fact of this tiny undernourished universe. It would be a blessing if they survived to their first conscious thoughts, a miracle if they lived long enough to utter, “war.” And we would have won what precisely? Another generation of holy spite.
Who are the gay guerrillas and why have they traded the fierce power of love for weak weapons of terrorism and state warfare? Show me a past that’s ever been won with the tools of the master?
Everywhere I look, all I see are men. With guns and plans and hot tempers. With god on their side and women and children under their feet. Everywhere I look, all I see are men under the boots of other men. Poor men soldiers, poor men résistants, indentured to desert kings and political lackeys. I see a war by proxy. I see that like every other instance of this sort of thing, it’s the women and the children who pay the highest price.
Tonight the universe is scarce. A dim silence. Even the radio is off. The future, oh the future…
Image of the Great Salt Lake, November 2023.
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