I see a child whose life is dying of thirst. I see a child chasing droplets of water in a storm of dust and black flies. I see brown bones dangling haphazardly. I see a marionette at the end of invisible wires an impossible tangle. Someone said, “…magic persists without us…”* Is there magic in this world? Magic cyclones? An Emerald City? I see a wicked land. I see desolate people watering poppies in spring. *Charles Bukowski, In Other Words
03 Thursday Jan 2013
me, too, sometimes. beautifully honest.
Ronald E. Shields said:
thanks ann. i feel like this one is a bit overcooked, just too bleak…i think the good outweighs the bad but some of the avoidable horrors in this world are too much to stomach.
à mon avis, the good only outweighs the bad when it does. sometimes it doesn’t. those are dark hours, indeed, but they are hours – hours that pass, that we must endure. they are the hours that taught us how to create in order to survive. there is a terrible sadness in our impotence, and i think you’ve captured it beautifully here.