Something different...
I've been remembering what drew me to poetry years ago: it's the way a poem is looking to create its own structure and meaning in the space it takes up. Even when the world around it can seem like it is losing its structure & coherence- with brutal political violence & a threat of fascism here in the U.S. still, while climate change continues regardless- the world within a poem aims for its own logic within its rhythms.
The piece below was written by an earlier me. I'm not sure exactly what year, but I was in my mid-twenties- so it was over 20 years ago (!)- and I am not entirely sure what was prompting it, but I have recently had the quote which is the poem's title pop into my head. I think this quote from the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, gets at the heart of many of the interlocking political issues of our time. Climate change is definitely an issue of collective 'happiness' and 'safety'.
The only other notes I will add about this poem are that I jotted some ideas for it- some of the images- while sitting in a huge, pin-drop quiet room on the Harvard campus where Thich Nhat Hanh was giving a public talk. The phrase I have in italics below is one I think he directly said (though I can't find my notes). The 'I' in the poem isn't really me; the 'you' in the poem could be seen as a single person or as the plural you. [Also, the spacing is somewhat off when this post is sent via email but if you click on 'View in Browser' above the image, it will look better.]
“Happiness is not an individual matter. Safety is not an individual matter.” - Thich Nhat Hanh
a prison prison walls empty plates full plates cafeteria spoon dreams
bars in the walls look at me here i am eating here inside my walls
no past no present it all bleeds how to meet our dreams we’re still in
the past is not over light pours in windows eat what’s in front of you
we share the food we are all
locked up here you have been in my jail
all along we are eating some with pleasure a full taste a none
there is light
on the floor i hear your spoon we are eating near the sounds
of violence banging on the wall nearby how to eat near someone’s pain
sit still in the past or present grow older and eye our futures how can i
see you? light on the walls now night what do you look like in the night
behind your bars stars in the stripes the whole country is being held it
bleeds time and desire here is my spoon we are eating again a
revolution we’re all together at the table with food spoons
the ghosts of violence hope dreams there is no door no way to leave