the Sound is there, but is it Written?

Yesterday, when I was a child, I didn’t think about the distance a man had to go from goodness in order to turn against a neighbor – which valve in his heart he had to close in order to meet with generals and discuss what is an acceptable casualty; how he might have to compose morality to support the creation of a distribution of lies – the kind that make mothers wail with grief after a son or daughter has died or been made to disappear.

Growing up a few miles from where farmers stacked hay and milked cows, I didn’t know that there were ghost men, stone men, vacant men, traveling in cars, or by ships and planes – on their way, silent like assassins – doing their everyday, their normal, saying, “good work” to each other. Speaking again, and saying – “We do what we do – these secret dirty jobs, so that citizens can sleep at night – not calculating how safe we were, to how unsafe we have  become.

This isn’t a poem is it? It does not look like a poem does it? I have been writing poems for years and I promise you this is not a poem. Look through the pixels of this text; squint your eyes until your pupils are focused enough to see me. I am not a make believe man typing – trying with borrowed words to make a difference. I am a human wanting meaning muscles to move specific historical mountains.

I wish I was a genie, or knew where a genie lived – do you know which door on what street I might knock to find one? I prayed and still my father beat me. I cried but my mother did not hear me. I have read what Christians, Muslims and Buddhist’s have written, but I could never get past the observation that each of these were bound by their limitations, and did not offer any real or vital way to see how a heartfelt foresight is a more vital part of a co-existing.

(You. Your voice. The wind waiting in your mouth – what to do with the sound of your yearning, your love poem, your God prayer, in a world deaf and inured to the sound of suffering?)

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6 responses to “the Sound is there, but is it Written?

  1. my god, this tore through me.

    i’m in half now. i guess i’ll have to be half today.

    you’re more than a wordsmith, mister.

  2. Brilliant!

  3. Dame
    How was your half day?
    That’s one way to take some time off, isn’t it?

    Angela
    Thanks for stopping by…

    Poetman

  4. half days are always better than none, right?

    always fulfilling, gotta’ do it

    heh.

    (i hope that schmuck didn’t snatch wordsmith from my comment, btw. cuz that would piss me off)

  5. I think I would be pissed off if I were you… 🙂

    Poetman

  6. well, that’s a given…

    but i mean, the comment!

    (i lol’d)

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