Pardon me if I ignore it all for a while.
Both the truth and the lies and the politics
that mingle the truth like magical potions:
the battles for social justice
and the battles against it,
the “how many died today” question
that dominates my evenings;
The bad police and the bad rioters,
and the good police and the good protestors;
all the things that make me angry
and all the things that make me sad,
and all the things that make me feel small;
all of it.
I have better things to do,
just for now, in this fleeting moment
where beauty flashes itself in sun
and the last September warmth.
I can sing my Hallelujahs,
I will heal, if just for the moment.
I will grow strong.
a golden yellow soul,
[…] is the second part of my earlier poem this morning. Rest. Then rise and fight […]