In April, the forsythia blooms bravely yellow
in the chill. I take the temperature of my being
this 78th springtime of my life.
My heart aches.
Is it existential or physical?
Likely both.
I am processing cruelty and injustice:
the frail 80 year old woman I watched on video,
being carried out by police for protesting the exclusion
of immigrant children from school.
"This is wrong," she said, her face resigned
to whatever came next.
How quickly fascism moves.
How soon "agents" who are "just following orders"
exchange humanity and civility
- and the rule of law and due process -
for aggression, devoid of empathy.
None brave enough
- like the old woman -
to say "this is wrong."
As if a switch has been turned within, changing
all decency to cruelty and harsh, uncaring stares.
We have seen all this before.
That same day I stood by my grandson's grave.
This felt wrong, too.
He was so alive, magical, loving,
and now forever gone.
His mother wept beside me,
a forever loss, a rending of the fabric of family.
We promise to keep him alive
through our stories and memories.
But it is not enough.
I have seen so many marches, protests,
heard so many pleas for peace -
yet here we are, still marching.
This is where I came in,
having to fight to restore
all those rights again.
Weariness, fatigue, a tired heart
beating ever more slowly.
Existential and physical angst
feel much the same. They sing one weary note
and dream to hope again.
For Sumana's prompt at What's Going On, on being and doing in April.
"As if a switch has been turned within, changing all decency to cruelty and harsh, uncaring stares."
ReplyDeleteYes, it seems like that, doesn't it?
"I take the temperature of my being"
ReplyDeleteAll these things slow us down while the earth turns and we notice the forsythia again. I love this poem. You vividly project the causes of weariness--while i am too weary to write a good poem.
"His mother wept beside me,
ReplyDeletea forever loss, a rending of the fabric of family." I feel these words so deeply as tears well up. A beautiful poem Sherry, telling us to bloom bravely in spite of everything.
Definitely that kind of April..making us bone weary with its nonstop madness...how can we in the 21st century be so obsessed with war and discrimination and ruining the climate with greed... makes no sense...wonderfully written, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteSuch a sad reflection but you are keeping your grandson in your minds which shines - Jae
ReplyDeleteThe Nazis had the brown shirts. We have ICE. The recent Hands Off! protests lifted my heart But it's hard to be brave in the face of the Machine. Keep on!!!
ReplyDeleteI feel for you in your sadness. These are cruel times. It is hard to keep the spirit of freedom and earth greening alive. Suzanne - Wordpress blog - Wayfaring.
ReplyDelete"We have seen all this before." I feel it too, Sherry, and on a worldwide scale as our screens are flooded with images of the genocide in Gaza by Israel. Where is that switch that flips on? And how do we shut it off except by speaking out, daring to dream and hope again, as you so beautifully say.
ReplyDelete"agression, devoid of empathy" my, but that is indeed ugly. As you say, "my heart aches."
ReplyDeleteMy hope is that after a time when we look in the mirror a new empathy will emerge like a butterfly out of this cruelty.
ReplyDelete