You know the saying, “things could not get any worse”. That one. It’s meant to encourage us when things are really bad. Unbelievably awful. I’ve been saying it to myself a lot these past few years. A lot. So many times that it almost seems meaningless, because it’s just not true…
And Worse, for his part, keeps showing me that he is not finished showing off. Every day, Worse is looming, in my face flaunting his best, the greatest hits, of his worst. And the hits keep coming. At a furious pace. Worse is relentless. He’s especially good at reminding me of what I’ve lost…friends, family, security, freedom. He loves making me beg for an end to his madness. He loves beating me down. For every uttered, “it can’t get any worse,” he’s there smugly declaring, “Oh, but it can. It can always get worse.” Worse is a bottomless pit of impossibilities just waiting to spew his venom. To poison us into believing it’s hopeless to imagine anything better than the misery he’s so good at inflicting.
But Worse doesn’t know me. I have seen Worse. And I am still here. The shimmering break of day still moves me…every day. The cool settling of dusk soothes me. I swoon to the caress of the breeze on my cheek, thrill to the trill of birdsong. Oh I know I’m waxing poetic a bit. Hey, it’s what poets do. But like I said, Worse doesn’t know me.
Go ahead give me your worst, Worse, I’ll raise you with hope. Ante up…show how vile you can be. Tell me your lies. They’re no match for the truth. I wear truth like armor. And another thing…I am a raging bundle of love. Love never fails. You can’t stop the beautiful sun from rising, or quiet the birds from singing. You can’t stop the seasons from seasoning. And my friends, the better angels, they’re not afraid of you either. Yes things may seem to be going your way Worse. But not today. Today Hope is rising. She’s ready for a fight. And when she wins, you’re gonna feel it.
Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 November 2018
when words are not enough it’s best not to make up stuff
nipping our hearts, numbing frost, fear, our freedom lost
something was horribly wrong
all have gone…
mustn’t be late, and then we wait, it’s the waiting I hate
the haunt begins…appease them with sweets, don’t let them in
it is not safe here
clouds, drizzle droplets
silenced by our better angels
when so much is at stake / become the truth
gilded needles clinging
remember the things that matter
A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.