.
.
.
So many friends on the social network
(you know the one)
are railing against the future,
which is, I admit, quite likely and upon us in a coin toss;
corporate poison or greed, government greed or a poisoning
of a democratic republic, foreign interventions or the lack thereof,
the promulgation of bad language skills and not enough stray dogs saved today.
My email is even more determined; every interest group
asking me to sign, to call, to rise and be counted;
a dozen manifestos a day, so many I can't keep count
of how many fists I must raise.
I've only two to hold up in anger and rage,
and believe me when I confess
they've been held aloft so long
I wonder whether the clenched fist is of use.
But neither am I completely sure, yet,
of the completely open hand. Not quite yet.
But I can hold so much more this way.
.
.
.
.
.
So many friends on the social network
(you know the one)
are railing against the future,
which is, I admit, quite likely and upon us in a coin toss;
corporate poison or greed, government greed or a poisoning
of a democratic republic, foreign interventions or the lack thereof,
the promulgation of bad language skills and not enough stray dogs saved today.
My email is even more determined; every interest group
asking me to sign, to call, to rise and be counted;
a dozen manifestos a day, so many I can't keep count
of how many fists I must raise.
I've only two to hold up in anger and rage,
and believe me when I confess
they've been held aloft so long
I wonder whether the clenched fist is of use.
But neither am I completely sure, yet,
of the completely open hand. Not quite yet.
But I can hold so much more this way.
.
.
.
Quite a necessary poem, this one. That ol' rage thing, makes me move the fist to mouth to stifle a yawn. Open hand better. "A slogan, exhausted, must never be repeated!"
ReplyDeleteThanks Loring--my friend Kay, who is both a writer and a artist/kunst of the first water, wrote to say she read it to a friend, and they both liked it, too. Perhaps at my next march; may I holler your slogan, loring? It's in the right meter...
ReplyDelete