All That Matters Right Now - Sept 19 2025

 

All That Matters Right Now

Sept 19 2025

I’m very concerned with the state of the world.

Yet feel immobilized,

helpless

and overwhelmed.

Then there’s self-improvement

at war with complacency;

all the work I need

to become the better person I wish to be

but keep letting slide.

The dogs, though, are fine.

Their charismatic leader is me,

the world this modest property,

and this small bouncy ball

its existential emergency;

all that matters right now.

The fate of worlds depends

on finding and retrieving that ball

and getting it first. 

I envy them.

To be so singular, focussed, immersed,

every concern

concentrated down

to the sharp end of the spear.

Envy how present

in the moment

here-and-now they are,

their excitement so fierce

they can’t contain themselves.

They are poets of action, not words,

choreographers

in the kinetic arts

of balance and agility

strength and speed.

Perfectly embodied

they move for the sake of it

express themselves in play.

If the purpose of art is to elevate

then they are illustrious,

lifting me out of my funk,

my eyes from myself,

and the weight of a world

that’s gotten too much for me.

When all inspiration fails but I still feel that powerful urge to write — something, anything! — there's always that refuge of scoundrels and bad poets, the dog poem. 

The poem is true to its beginning:  I started to write sincerely about the state of the world, but immediately felt too overwhelmed. Where to start, because there’s so much wrong and too much to say? And of what use are more empty words when a single person who doesn’t just bloviate but actually takes action is too powerless to make a difference? At least as an activist, I’d be taken seriously. 

Below, a still life of Rufus and Peanut [April 2025]. Time out after a hard day. I can't offer any action shots because they’re just too quick. (It would help, of course, if I took my phone with me once in a while!)