Decanting Some Thoughts on Why We Bother, or An Offering
by Trisha Bhaya
The seasons are changing and maybe I am too. It is a bit trite,
I am aware, but I am trying something out, so please bear with me.
It’s October and I thought things would be different and I’m trying
To sit comfortably with the sheer embarrassment of being alive
Under this neoliberal genocidal war-mongering sky.
So yes, I’m dealing with this by diving to the bottom of the sea and trying to feel
the enormity of a great blue whale and something feels possible and buoyant in
How the train arrived on time today and people gave way to each other to get on.
And I mean this most politely, but also in the way you often wear the same pair of socks,
Despite the hole right where your big toe goes, and in how love still seems so easy
Yet so radical (for the open window in front of me, so radically easy).
I hope we keep returning many times over
To the same place to hear
More and feel more and remember
More, and I hope it all ends in a big sigh, something that looks like rest.
How can we see that this dancing and touching and
Singing and crying and screaming are all just ways to love what changes
And to love especially what doesn’t? Maybe we can make something that is
Different and better and more hopeful and not constructed on reducing us to capital
And denying us the right to speak and to move and to change and
I thought I just heard in a gust of wind,
That maybe there is so much to still give.
(Thank you to all the poems I have read and to the hands that have held me, so that I can try and hold what is too heavy for someone else.)
RevUU 