because there is no time
for frivolous things
in this killing moment
we must dance
for who will dance
if we do not
because there is no time
for our leisure
when all around us is industry
and labor
we must sit our asses down
and refuse to work
for who will recall the joy of rest
if we do not
because there is no time
for art and creation
as repulsion and nausea
dominate our senses
we must take up pen and brush
and fight
for what will the future think of us
if we let those fall
from our hands
if we let
this grinding moment of horror
take from us
what is most holy and human
if we cannot dance
if we cannot create
if we cannot rest
satisfied that we have done
the necessary work of our souls
what will be left
for the future
to fight for
November 25th, 2016 at 4:56 pm
Amen!!! Have to share this (of course). Yesterday, we undertook trying to make the holiday at least a little happy for our four young granddaughters, who were experiencing their first holiday since their parents divorced. Of course, nothing was going to do that, and I struggled to hold back tears while they dutifully, but sadly, went through the motions at the huge Opryland Hotel extravaganza. The nineteen year old and I were waiting for the others to get back from a boat tour of the main floor of the complex. Across the stream from us, a fortyish man stood at the top of a steep staircase with a handrail in the middle. He looked around and saw there were no people on the broad staircase or around the bottom, so he got up on the handrail and slid all the way down it. We applauded, but he had disappeared quickly around the corner. It made my day.