Vox Populi
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Richard Hoffman: Looking at Photos of Gaza | November, 2024
I felt sure I was closing in on something
to say, clear and beyond all argument,
when I saw a child mashed to a paste,
the shredded meat of her mocking words.
I have nothing to say not evident
to anyone with eyes, with a stomach
that churns with revulsion, with ears
for cries that encompass every language.
I am no longer bewildered by cruelty,
have not been speechless facing suffering,
but I have nothing now to say to anyone
to move them to change their minds.
I am not offering this poem for judgment.
I am not trying to win a poetry prize.
I am trying to continue to be able to love
in the face of shamelessness and slaughter.
~~~
Richard Hoffman’s many books include the memoir Half the House and the poetry collection Without Paradise. He is Emeritus Writer in Residence at Emerson College.
Copyright 2024 Richard Hoffman
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I love this poem. Thanks, Richard. Miss you loads.
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As Laure-Anne said (and Mother Teresa) we can all continue to do small things with great love.
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Oh, I hope that is enough. I really do.
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Heart-wrenching words that speak the truth of many.
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I agree!
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Yes, they do!
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Since writing earlier today how I don’t know what to do about this madness, I came upon a quote by an artist who wrote about a similar moment in his life:
“In spite of everything I shall rise again. I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing. From that moment everything has seemed transformed for me; and now I have started and my pencil has become somewhat docile, becoming more so every day. The too long and too great poverty had discouraged me so much that I could not do anything….Though every day difficulties crop up…I cannot tell you how happy I am to have taken up drawing again….The thing for me is to learn to draw well, to be master of my pencil or my crayon or my brush; this gained, I shall make good things everywhere….” Vincent Van Gogh
as quoted in Bone Dead and Rising: Vincent Van Gogh and the Self Before God, by Charles Davidson (23)
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Thank you, Jim.
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I stay in my small circle of loving friends and family, taking my own trauma out of the world arena. Can’t believe anymore that this world will change any time soon, perhaps never. I was one of those children who survived. I can’t watch others being destroyed so intentionally.
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Offer small love-gestures. A hug. A smile. Send wishes for peace. Think clear thoughts of hope. One small action at a time, inviting others to do the same, or share ours. But do this constantly. Daily, hourly & constantly — this might be my answer to Emily De Ferrari. At 81 yrs old there’s not much more I can do — but I do this with constant, tender tenacity.
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We can’t close our eyes, neither can we plug our ears to the cruel deaths of children. We can’t allow ourselves to believe nothing crucial is wrong. But how do we move to action in a world strewn with terror, where the arrays of power turn their mockery upon us, and shout us down? How do we lead and/or influence? How do we love this world, this life? I no longer know, but others may…
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I don’t know either, Jim. I’m often in despair over the cruelty in the world.
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Oh YES. THIS POEM!
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yes.
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Thank you, dear friend, for this poem.
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Even As these words pierce the heart, I repeat them in grief and rage…knowing no more than the reality of our time… yes…yes…wanting to scream NO. … “I am no longer bewildered by cruelty,
have not been speechless facing suffering,
but I have nothing now to say to anyone
to move them to change their minds.”
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Thank you Richard Hoffman. Clearly, you have something to say, and you say it well. The second item is, what do we have to do?
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