Myth of Arrival

This morning at 7 o'clock sharp I was at the voting office casting my vote for a straight Democratic ticket. I'm not too hard to guess. I'll vote for anyone Pro-Choice. It's all about the right to choose and I choose to help continue the system of choosing. Then, later, I read Gerald Stern's poem, The Dancing, with all that terrible beauty in its lines. To be both beautiful and frightening is an impossible act sometimes. Gerald writes of his family dancing in their little apartment, all those he loves, all his joy:

… the three of us whirling and singing, the three of us
screaming and falling, as if we were dying,
as if we could never stop — in 1945 –
in Pittsburgh, beautiful filthy Pittsburgh, home
of the evil Mellons, 5,000 miles away
from the other dancing — in Poland and Germany –
oh God of mercy, oh wild God

I think of all of us and the choices we all make, the need to continue in the face of others who do not like us, hate us, want to silence us. I think of all my friends and even though many might not agree with me, even though some of my friends would give away their own rights, gladly, happily, I am filled with a terrible burning to continue. All of us, together, we all must continue or perish in flame.

I.

Stop the reel of the news of
the girl in the mosque
blowing herself up. A flash,
a spark, entertainment. We debate
and debate when life starts. So
what? It ends here: a slash
of hot sun, she is gone turning
into salt, ash, god. How hard.
To love your friends and not
other people's friends. To want
what is best for them. We want
what is best. Of course we want.
Needing. A hunger. An anger.
Why do we turn to anger, to ash,
to god why do we turn
when we love turn to love
your god and not how hard
other people's gods we
do not love other people.

II.

If you cannot remember then go in
peace and sin no more but you should.
Back when Charlie controlled all this.
This is about control. This is about Charlie
and all the crazy things he said, "I speak
for the god." Come on now, we all know
the truth. Charlie spoke for Charlie just
like the two young men at my doorstep.
Salvation, they cry. It's a big word. I love
these young men, but in a off-handed way.
If they should perish in flame I would not
be too surprised though I might wonder why.

I might. I want to tell them about Charlie,
about a time, just like this, just like now
(it is always now, it is always like this)
maybe you were there? maybe you and
your friends? and first they wouldn't let you
in the school? right. and then not on
the street? old Charlie said and we wore
armbands and marched and sang it was good
to sing wasn't it? it is always good to sing and
Charlie said the god was in certain things and not
others it's all about the god and the others that we
didn't like we could get rid of those others
I mean because we didn't like them
couldn't we? yes we could we did and I
want to tell these young men all this but
what do you say to young men
when they come to the door? I don't know
it is a sad world sometimes because I think
I should know if I only had the right
combination of words it's all about words?

no. There is fire too. Fire that you look into
while it consumes I love that verb "to consume"
they are always talking about fire how the body
burns how we must pay how we must burn
for salvation. Salvation is the word to be.
If I was going to be one word and not fire
and not consume and not friends I'd be salvation.
I'd tell these boys to come on in sit down
have a beer kick loose grow out that hair
and laugh a bit. I'd tell them to not worry
about other people we're always worried
about other people about them falling
into fire Oh that fire I'd say Oh that
Charlie I'd say don't worry about that
fire, don't worry about that Charlie. But
they do and so do I.

III.

It sounds like a joke the way she said it
some guys were sitting around arguing
about women's reproductive rights, yeah
right like guys ever worry about women
or their rights and I just nod my head
when we talk to the choir because I am
the choir and she is singing and I can't
think of anywhere else I want to be
or be with or do and what effects her
effects me and in the end it comes down
to that and she says that it's odd
how many talk about conception
at birth but don't take care about the living
and I nod and she says maybe
if there was a voluntary nuder/ spay program
for all who don't believe in women's rights
just so they wouldn't contribute to the general
misery we'd see how ballsy these guys
really are and I nod and — wait she didn't
say that I did and she nodded — we turn
on the radio and a voice is talking
about a teenage girl blowing herself up
somewhere else just like that in a mosque
somewhere else and I want to say something
here for my sister, your daughter, our
mothers, I want words here

in this sad world sometimes
I think I could stop all this if
I only had the right combination
of words anything can be explained
any crime the worse you can think
of to those you love
to your friends and those
you love it's all about
words? yes. and friends
I love like you it's all
about those who love.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 7th, 2006 at 11:14 am and is filed under Original Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.