It's hard to write poetry
When the world is so terrible
And people are suffering
And I am not.
It seems selfish, uncaring, aloof.
If there's time for writing, then there's time for action!
I have to remind myself that writing is action, humble as it is
And creating a small piece of art to send out into that great collection of consciousness
- even if it's a blip on the screen, even if the universe doesn't notice, even if people continue to suffer and all seems so lost -
is a tiny tip of the scale toward light and beauty
and away from injustice and insanity.
My heart breaks for the injustice happening in Ferguson, for the people dying of Ebola, for the families having war waged around them in so many places it's hard to count them all. I feel so small and helpless, but without art there is no civilization. It's not much of a contribution, but I don't know what else to do.