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| Image from 1969 film adaptation of The Madwoman of Chaillot |
You will laugh, go ahead!
It’s time to tell
why I haven’t fallen in love again:
No passion or not the right kind. Yes, I
melt at flowers and meals, thrill to concerts,
picnics, scrabble, baseball games and parties—
But, take me to a rally as of old:
Meet me with banners and signs drawn from truth
to power, ready to stand and to walk
as long as it takes. To
not disappear!
That’s the passion I miss, and I want it.
Is it youth’s turn?
I ask, but watch older
people than me show up no matter what
while I sit home with my meds, tiredness
and fear of crowding, falling and breaking.
It is I who I miss, she who loves fun.
Remember the plains of DC, walking
among ever-changing traffic lights and
laughing: Humans overpower stop signs,
exits and entrances, marching to be
alive and heard, unified and so right.
We held hands, four across.
We stopped to stare
at Kill pigs signs
because we disagreed
and Eat the rich signs
because we agreed.
We chanted No More
War! until our throats
were parched, circled the pentagon, until …
Tear gas, tears, search for water, separate
screams, plastic handcuffs, police wagons and
brutality—I had forgotten, I
had forgotten until Michael Brown died
an Emmett Till death.
I had forgotten.
You say It’s the movie
Hair! I counter
with The Great
Debaters. We laugh. But I
feel bald in the
wind, exposed to the sun
setting. I've been
happy sitting here with
you reminiscing, but tomorrow …
To be posted for my prompt
Poets United Midweek Motif ~ An Evening Out
when it opens at 7AM Eastern USA time.
when it opens at 7AM Eastern USA time.
Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast
How this poem resonates. I do know an extremely active activist who still is out on the lines in her eighties - she went to jail a few times in her late seventies....still going strong. But it is different for those of us who struggle with fatigue, and who have to be wary of falls and breakages.......I hear you. At least we did it when we could and have those memories.......
ReplyDeletesmiles...the need to feel we make a difference....that we are part of something greater than ourselves...to connect on that interest level...it is important....i think there is wisdom to knowing we need something to fill other parts of us than the flowers and meals that will come and go....
ReplyDeleteYour poem absorbed the passion you remember and I feel still hold....it seems the passion we can find everywhere: even in gym to start from, dance class, art class, - group of interest, meetups now very popular. Recently I had experiment of listening different percussion/celtic/flute/pipes/bagpipes/gong/voice meditation/sound healing concert - very satisfying.
ReplyDeleteI feel for some people tiredness....but please, don't give up, keep trying to feel life's passion and beauty....~ this is why we are here ~ to experience life in human being bodies.... :)x
" To not disappear!"....i have seen this happening in rallies...spirit is willing but the flesh is weak..."Humans overpower stop signs, /exits and entrances, marching to be / alive and heard, unified and so right."...love the lines..
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your story! I loved each word.
ReplyDeleteI do understand missing some of the passion from earlier times; and I also understand missing oneself and the person one remembers being. I have had times of missing 'myself' as well, and it isn't a good feeling. I do hope you can always do things with your passion, Susan. If you aren't out there marching, you can write poetry or letters. Your voice is important, and I trust you will find a way. I like your ending 'tomorrow...' but also know that yesterday's tomorrow is today!
ReplyDelete"It is I who I miss"
ReplyDeleteI really felt this one, Susan.
But, take me to a rally as of old:
ReplyDeleteMeet me with banners and signs drawn from truth
Yearnings for the freedom and the care-free days of youth can fill bags of memories. Good reminiscing when together is fun in reunions! Great write Susan!
Hank
I didn't meet her then, but I miss her...
ReplyDeleteI've seen glimpses of her in your poetry.
Sometimes, I see her shake her fist; hear her scream "I'm getting out!"
I know she will. She's working on it...
Maybe tomorrow...
Sad that you have lost parts of yourself. The passion of youth cannot be sustained at the same intensity when one get older.
ReplyDeleteSuch a sad poem, very moving. You'll find those parts again.
ReplyDeleteA great energy in this Susan. I never had passion for the activist "thing" but had friends who stood arm and arm creating a blockade strong chanting voices becoming one.
ReplyDeleteReflecting on the journey may be the best way to evaluate which segments are not yet finished. The idea that all is linear is misguided. Go For It!
ReplyDeleteMissing yourself...the part that has fun...I can certainly relate...maybe that's what tomorrow will bring...I hope so
ReplyDelete'melting' is good enough for me :-)
ReplyDeleteDifficult situations, but cherished memories because of love...
ReplyDelete