I find myself growing numb to the endless onslaught of atrocities perpetrated by our government. How many more children can we separate from parents, how many loyal federal workers, force to work with no pay, how many closed door meetings with dictators will we tolerate, how many policy disasters decreed by tweet, how many alliances with the vile underbelly of society, murderers, racists, mysogynists, liars, criminals, until we say enough? There is of course, as conservatives will remind us, blame on both sides. It’s true, we could all do much better, working together while laying aside our differences for the common good. But I take issue with false comparison that all sides are equally at fault for our problems. There is a common denominator at the root of every issue. A single person, I’ll-equipped to hold the honorable office of President, who nevertheless claimed that title, with our help, and it is becoming increasingly evident, with the help of foreign enemies. I am numb.
How can people still support the infantile tantrums of this hateful man? I have come to realize that most people don’t pay attention to the news like I do. They only pay attention when they are personally affected by bad policy. Longer, slower lines at the airport, our food supply growing unsafe, unemployment rising due to decreased cashflow, services interrupted, garbage and human waste accumulating in public places, teachers on strike, healthcare costs surging, stagnant wages while corporate executives and shareholders reap record profits. These things are getting worse by the day.
Trump supporters would like to blame the democrats for these ills. “But Obama…” “her emails…” “Benghazi” “fake news” are still go-to catch phrases that justify supporting the con artist they call their president. I hold these diehards accountable for the mess we are in. I wish I could look the other way, look past their reckless decision, and support of a man that puts all of us in peril. But I want them to own it. To admit they screwed up. To wake up and come to their senses. I do acknowledge that I play a role in the chasm between us. I can’t forgive their willful ignorance. I can’t un-know the fact that by their vote, these people sold all of us out to a monster. I warned them this would happen. Why wouldn’t they listen? How could they vote against their own best interest?
Of course they don’t want to talk politics. But their day is coming. The piper is coming to collect. The misery is trickling down. And so, I’m grateful for the numbness. Who would I be if I delighted in their suffering. Being numb helps me let go of my need for redress. When I’m being honest with myself I realize I want those who voted for this to pay. And in that sense I am no different. We all have a dark side. It is becoming harder to keep the darkness at bay. But I’m weary of the fight. I’m tired of being angry. Being numb is a blessed reprieve from the madness.
Sunday’s Week in Reverse – 20 January 2019
there is more to her short story
can you see her?
a gentle hand can turn the page
i tell you
don’t you worry
we can’t unsee, we can’t un-know
you certainly can’t blame the muse
I’ve been called worse, if you must know
cold and darkness overcoming
clouds can’t dim her face this night
flickering in the darkness
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.