Domestic Politics =- June 12 2025

 

Domestic Politics

June 12 2025



It’s all politics.

All factions

bombast

and shouting across the aisle.

All wheeling and dealing

and unseemly affairs.

The mess of compromise.

The taking and giving.

The splitting of difference

down the middle

if not a little to one side.

Government

relationships

the inner voice I argue with,

business

as usual;

all politics.

In all of which

no one wins

all they want or all the time.

Doesn’t matter

how distasteful I find disorder.

How either/or

simplifies the world,

dividing it cleanly

into black hats and white,

virtue over vice,

the absolute truth

versus shameless lies.

How much purity appeals

to my inner idealist,

who never doubts

that the good guys are us,

the others are wrong,

and the line between bright.

Meanwhile, we fight

apologize

kiss and make up,

trying not to keep score

or nurse our petty grievances.

And trying even harder

not to let them simmer inside,

stewing in the warmth

of our lesser selves.

Where they’ll go bad,

festering into resentment

or worse, contempt.

And in the end, we muddle through.

A short memory helps,

while forgiveness smooths the way,

ushering us on

with a gracious nod

and wave of its hand.

And after all is said and done

we hold a vote of confidence

so that the house doesn’t fall

government dissolve,

custody over the dog

become a bone of contention.

Convene a new session

with the representatives

in their accustomed seats;

voting

on what’s for dinner

what wine will go with it

and who does the dishes tonight,

accompanied

by the usual bickering

and innocent jibes,

some coyly flirtatious asides.

And later that night

living in glorious sin,

just as common law permits

and marriage gives royal assent.

Then continue to live together,

hoping for re-election

when the next contentious decision

is up for debate.

I might have called it “Post Fight Sex”. But a little too on the nose!

And more seriously, the poem is not just about domestic life. (It certainly didn’t start that way (but then, poems tend to have a mind of their own!)) Everything is messy, compromise, water in your wine. It’s not this messiness that’s the problem; it’s purity. Which, in politics, comes in the form of both idealism and ideology. In business, greed. And in personal relationships, intransigence.