Day 7: Dissonance
making sense of it all
Dissonance:
lack of agreement
especially : inconsistency between the beliefs one holds or between one's actions and one's beliefs
an instance of such inconsistency or disagreement
a mingling of sounds that strike the ear harshly : a mingling of discordant sounds
especially, music : a clashing or unresolved musical interval or chord
I can’t make sense of you, you who project violence and stew in hate constantly, who hold everything out as if it is everyone else’s problem but yours. I can’t make sense of it, the way we pass hate around as if it were the only possible meal, as if we couldn’t imagine a different way of being in this world that so desperately needs love. I can’t make sense of myself, wanting to hold hope but finding nothing but despair around me, rivers of lies flowing in every direction, and my own struggle to grasp anything that speaks of tenderness. I can’t make sense of anything, but that’s where life seems to do its best kind of living, where we are unsure but still hoping, worried but still caring for ourselves and each other, because it’s all we’ve ever got. I can't make sense of Mother Earth, our tender caretaker, who holds every bit of this, every worry, in the valleys and mountains, in the waters that are her very bloodline, the line that keeps us tethered to this life at all. I can't make sense of a poem when the world shakes inside and out, but I'll keep writing anyway, exposing every crack in the wall so that somehow we find out what it means to love.
I had a bit of dissonance while trying to write this poem. I wanted to write something deep and meaningful about the world, like Kaitlin did, but this sort of sing-songy poem about my chronic illness came out instead:
It seems that we must
agree to disagree;
what else can you do,
at times like these?
When brain says yes
and body says no,
what choice is left
but go with the flow?
A really poignant prompt for today Kaitlin - thank you. And especially thank you for writing on the contradictory nature of it all and how we must keep writing, expressing ourselves, and wending our way towards hope.
I had a crackle
In my chest
Liquid
And lightning
And worry.
Better
Or worse?
What about her?
I hear
Her crackle too.
What can I do?
A sickness
In one body
Can lay
That body low -
Enforce rest -
A going with
The flow.
While in
Another body
Infection can breed.
Is there rhyme
Or reason
As to which
Is which?
And how
Do we know
When to flow
And when
To fight?
Our world
Is full of it -
Sickness
And infection.
Mostly man-made;
By our election.
Or our choice
To make
No selection.
'If I don't opt in
It can't be
My fault.'
Just where
They want us.
Apathetic
And aimless.
We go with
A flow
Predetermined
By a few
Who know
Exactly
What they do.
And their
Coffers grow fat
As our everything
Grows dim.
Time to fight
This infection
Maybe someday
We'll win.