American Politic

belas bright ideas

It is the job of some to do the work for all.
This I understand.
Yet I am left wondering about too many,
eyes averted from the truth, blinking
like newborns at the brilliance of the sun,
backing away into the shadows, scheming.

How to take back our humanity, discovery
a personal thing, willingness being key;
participate in the collective, even
from the sidelines, but join in, rather
than to back away in futility;

Each arrives prepared to express uniqueness, yet
for whatever reason, a loss of heart ensues,
futility slips into cracks in well maintained veneer,
mistaken for what’s real; in the meantime, stuck
in the mire of illusion that it’s somebody else’s fault.


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About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on December 29, 2015, in Poem - Not Written By Me Though. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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