drop the rage
Posted: April 18th, 2007, 11:29 pm
This rainbow’s faded— and it’s time to stage
a protest now to paint it fresh, in part
(if not in whole) to eloquently say:
We need its spectrum color range, its rite
of realist return— the eloquence
of home beneath a rainbow in a breast
of mercy over moralistic writ,
where treasure’s chest hides wisdom over wit
like mountain ranges, beaten hearts expressed
like jagged blood’s horizon— recompense
received for truth. I want to smile; and might
you like to join me? Sure enough: decay
penultimately fades away my heart—
but second-to-the-end involves no rage.
...I don't understand the rage. I don't understand the killing. Someone said (I'm pretty sure--and if no one has, they should) that it's so much easier to love than to hate. It takes so much more energy to kill than it does to let live--let alone to help life thrive. I guess it's from a position of privilege that I lament why folks don't just let go, get counseling, grow up, play like little children, cry in public, hug each other, go off on vision quests, sing in spontaneous harmony--anything but kill. Wende dich hin, wende dich her, O Schulammith.
a protest now to paint it fresh, in part
(if not in whole) to eloquently say:
We need its spectrum color range, its rite
of realist return— the eloquence
of home beneath a rainbow in a breast
of mercy over moralistic writ,
where treasure’s chest hides wisdom over wit
like mountain ranges, beaten hearts expressed
like jagged blood’s horizon— recompense
received for truth. I want to smile; and might
you like to join me? Sure enough: decay
penultimately fades away my heart—
but second-to-the-end involves no rage.
...I don't understand the rage. I don't understand the killing. Someone said (I'm pretty sure--and if no one has, they should) that it's so much easier to love than to hate. It takes so much more energy to kill than it does to let live--let alone to help life thrive. I guess it's from a position of privilege that I lament why folks don't just let go, get counseling, grow up, play like little children, cry in public, hug each other, go off on vision quests, sing in spontaneous harmony--anything but kill. Wende dich hin, wende dich her, O Schulammith.
