ManicDDaily

This is a poem I posted in April, but took down as some of the imagery felt too graphic, and (possibly) open to misinterpretation. I’ve changed and am reposting below. Sorry for the repetition.

Need

I need to get back to the belief that the universe loves us. 

I also need to buy shoes. 

I understand that the universe does not necessarily love us
in the way that we want to be loved;
it doesn’t care if we have a long life
or suffer pain.

Don’t get me wrong—it doesn’t want us to suffer pain.
It’s just that a universe in which trees split in the wind
and stars are born and die with fiery outcries,
may not understand pain. 

I cannot think about those tortured in the Ukraine
and I cannot not think
about them.  

Even when I don’t want the images—hands tied behind the back,
and much more horrible things—bullets through
eyes–

It helps to worry about shoes. Almost none of mine will work as warmth
approaches.

It’s ridiculous. Still, I imagine trying to run after a young child in sandals,
the young child someone else’s but in my care.
and I don’t think I can trust
sandals. 

I dream about—I don’t want to write what I dream about
for fear of imprinting it further—

How did people feel in the 1930s and 40’s,
the Great Depression, World War II? 

My mother, one of those people, once told me she kept wondering
when it would all end—
will this never end, she said she wondered, thinking that when it did at last end,
she could finally start
her own life,
a life that was ongoing all the time she waited
to start it,
and is now (as we think of life) long over,
always the universe loving her, us,
in its way.

I need to get back to that.

*******************************************************

Another draft poem for April.  Sorry I’ve missed a few days, crazy internet issues that knocked out my momentum (such as it was!) 

Note that all these poems are drafts of a sort–of course, I’ve re-written them some, but they are poems that can probably benefit from more thought! And more thought might actually cause me to put them in the recycling bin! I appreciate your understanding!

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This entry was posted on April 27, 2022 at 6:48 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments.

Tags: #napowrimo, April Poetry Month, Karin Gustafson poetry

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