…
It probably started
in a whisper, a murmur,
a low tone hardly caught by the papers,
a sticker, a poster,
Tag: <span>Violence</span>
…
Maybe I shouldn’t answer today’s prompt because it will make people feel sorry for me, and I dislike that more than I dislike Fennel, and I dislike Fennel a lot.
It probably started
in a whisper, a murmur,
a low tone hardly caught by the papers,
a sticker, a poster,
a brick wall with slogans in fresh black paint
Out of boredom, waiting for glue to dry so I could stain a repaired tray, I turned on the TV to watch part of the Oscar spectacle around 9:30 pm Sunday night. I haven’t watched the Hollywood spectacle for years and I quickly regret my decision to tune in.
I feel your anger my blood is boiling too, yet, at the moment I will see looting my support goes away. It could be my property, my house, my car. I worked for it, nobody has the right to take violently away what’s mine. There was a time when I didn’t have much. Nothing was given to me.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” he said, looked at me and gave me the receipt. He meant well, so do all the others, wishing me the same. Now I just smile politely, a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes and everybody who knows me well would notice. The strangers in the stores they don’t know me, they don’t notice. How could they? It’s their job to be polite to customers. They mean no harm. The younger ones, who don’t have children, think about their own mothers. The older ones, who have children smile, think about their own kids. It’s natural so it seems.
“I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.
Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re Doing Something.