Here we are in the middle of our lives.
Somewhere someone is reading a book,
Quietly, deep in thought, pages are turning
In a peaceful place cut off from the world.
It is early morning; it is late in the day.
An old woman is slowly walking to church,
Her husband dead eight aching years,
And though they never got along in life,
She’s wondering what has become of him,
Where, out of this dream, he has gone.
It is early morning; it is late in the day.
Somewhere a man is sipping a cup of coffee,
Sleepily, trying to awaken into life,
As if all the answers had arrived,
The book before him an angel in disguise.
We wait, thinking they will come,
Knowing they won’t, hoping they will.
The shadow of doubt crosses the sun.
People somewhere, everywhere, hold their breaths,
Trying to save themselves from something.
It is early morning; it is late in the day.
A teenage girl, desperate for affection,
Assiduously searches a series of esoteric texts
That promise an answer to her longing.
None comes, the world turns, nothing
Fills the emptiness she swallows.
It is early morning; it is late in the day.
Here we are in the middle of our lives,
Quietly, deep in thought, turning the pages
Of our inscrutable books, timeless classics.
This is a very lovely poem. I just returned from a week unplugged in the Ozarks and find there has been a great deal of activity on this site, which is always gratifying. I started re-reading “Seeking Truth in a Country of Lies” during the last days of my vacation, reminding me of the breadth of sources you draw on in your work, as well as your own personal history in the antiwar movement and with its heroes.
I’ve been catching up on e-mail and have not yet engaged with my usual news sites like GR, though I have been seeing references to new problem, reaction, solution injection mandates from high riding Biden, apparently giving an end run to the constitution by tasking the private sector with enforcement. I’m already longing for another vacation from that “reality” created through our electronic devices.
If one were of the sort who wishes to prolong the special opportunity and fear created by pandemic talk, what better way than to reduce the capacity of medical facilities by causing those who object to the violation of their persons to be fired or to resign. Yikes! The emergency rooms are swamped and hospitals cannot bear the load! It’s a full-blown crisis!
(But why would our front-line essential heroes of the medical persuasion refuse to get the only authorized method of ending, er . . . treating the pandemic? After all, they are there in the hospitals and can see the effects of the shots and who is becoming sick and who is not! Who can understand it?)
And indeed such mandates could cause crises across the supply chains, exacerbating the major issues the original lockdowns, along with other dubious government actions, have created (By Jove, I think I see a pattern here!). This is to say nothing of the natural cycles which appear to be aligning to disrupt crop growing as currently practiced.
So stock up while you can, grow your own if you can, or be prepared to eat your ration of bugs and lab-grown monster meat, but only with a good social credit score and proof your boosters are up to date. But don’t discard those warm woolens just yet.
As for me, I’m soon moving south, and far from the madding crowd.
Beautiful thoughts, and needed. It might please you to know that your most-recent book is one of only a dozen or so which will be going into my R.V. (which will be my permanent home.) Like many of us, I’m finally downsizing; am donating the lifetime of contents within my house (here in the southeast) to the local humane society, then driving out west to be with my three children, and my three “grands.” Recently widowed, and in my seventies, it is long past time to cast off all things irrelevant, and concentrate on that which is most important to each of us. Time is short (for all, really; “no news” in that statement, for anyone paying attention…) Your book, along with RFK, Jr’s most recent, Vandana Shiva’s latest, (and a few, select others along these lines, including Garrow’s Bearing the Cross, which has languished on my shelf, and will now offer comfort), will be my night lights, to remind me of strength and courage against mounting odds. Thank you for your crucial contribution; it is held in high regard. — Amy Peck Murphy
We are flowing on the mystery of emptiness…