A Little Good News
May 27 2022
You can't pick up a newspaper
without wondering about your fellow man.
Is it that bad news sells?
That good people, doing virtuous things
and outcomes you'd expect
is not novel enough
to count as news?
That puffball pieces
about dogs lost and found
and the high school glee club
are scorned
by the hardcore newsmen
who cover politics and war
and Wall Street shenanigans?
Of course, few of us remain
who read a newspaper every day;
most, at most, a headline
in a social media feed,
a poll
about celebrities acting badly.
Then those
who don't believe a word.
Who see conspiracy everywhere,
feel victimized
and self-righteous.
Who watch TV
that tells them what they want to hear
and what to think.
Descend down dark twisted rabbit holes
of deranged imaginings
and paranoid thought,
soak up ideologies
bled of nuance and compassion.
And the apathetic many
who claim they “aren't political”,
when choosing not to be engaged
is very much that.
Because citizenship
is more than paying taxes
cutting the lawn
picking-up after the dog.
So, has exposure left me cynical
uncaring, desensitized?
Or am I a disillusioned idealist,
my misanthropy deepened
morale barely breathing?
The headline today
is about 19 children killed
in a shooting rampage
in faraway Texas.
Once again,
young men
easy weapons
mass death.
Meanwhile, the lost dog and her family
were reunited.
The video touches my heart;
Fido wagging
licking manically
and dancing in tight excited circles
while the man is down on his back,
happily overwhelmed
by the big shaggy mutt.
But America is broken,
and a little good news
can't mend the hurt.
In her column commenting on the Uvalde Texas shooting, Elizabeth Renzetti wrote those very trenchant 3 words: America is broken. I read her the following day, and ever since have felt that there is really nothing more to say.
I shared the first draft with Ms Renzetti. Here's the note that introduced it:
I write poems every day, but assiduously avoid political ones. Because if anything, the writing is an antidote to my cynicism and despair. But this one started to write itself, so I let it have its way.
Your words (as noted in the short commentary that will accompany the final version on my blog (brianspoetryjournal.blogspot.ca)) have remained with me, and provided a perfect ending. No elaboration needed. Less is always more in poetry. So I leave it to the reader to think the many ways our southern neighbour is indeed broken. Because if I were to list them, the poem would quickly become unreadable. The polity and culture are broken. And so are our hearts.
Anyway, I thought it only right to share this with you. At least what I have so far.
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