Barbara E. Young: Pain
Why
am I not raging?
Why aren’t we all?
All so flaming angry
we burn our shoes. Heaps of shoes
should burn
at intersections,
and when the flames begin to flag
why are we not angry enough
to feed the fire with bread
and cans of tuna in oil.
Feed the conflagration
olive oil and coffee
and Ikea shelving units.
We have broken the camel
with all of our straws:
why are we not
all rage, skinless
boneless, dripping.
Why doesn’t it hurt so
that we slit
our dogs’ throats
and our cats’. Throw
beloved carcasses on the pyre,
park our Toyotas around it
and Transport Vans
and open their doors to spill
Jane Austen, treasured photos,
footballs, our grandmothers’
watches each
with two
diamond chips, spill ourselves
into the consumption.
Copyright Barbara E. Young. From Heirloom Language by Barbara E. Young (Madville, 2021)
Barbara E. Young, her husband Jim and their two cats live in White Bluff, Tennessee, near Nashville.
image: Mirror
I agree (all but slitting the dogs’ throats and book burning). And I am raging – but find it hard to find a productive application to turn this mess around. I often wonder why aren’t we carrying pitchforks and torches in the streets? I should wonder, “Why don’t I?” I did raise my fist at a community event recently where America the Beautiful was sung….scary but that small act of defiance felt great afterward.
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Yep.
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Yeeeessss!
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