A sidelong look at today’s days of unreason prompt.
“Nearly everything we are taught is false except how to read”
~ Jim Harrison from Songs of Unreason
I had a loved one, a grandmother,
who had learned that the world is cruel,
and no mealy-mouthed words, eucharistically moulded,
change one iota in the grinding of the wheels.
She had the tools of intellect and kept them sharp,
one way to fight against the darkness.
Find your knives and keep them sharp, she said.
You will need them.
I had another, a mother,
who feared to teach a love of beauty,
because it didn’t pay, and poverty is grim.
Find your own way to beauty, she said,
by following the pavement grey.
And I had another, a father,
who taught nothing, but showed
that gentleness and compassion is the noble way,
and if that fails, use your fists.
I have been taught in that subtlest of ways,
caught in the floating strings of kin,
the woven map of kin
that stretches further than the heart can hold,
that love does not conquer all,
that love is never enough,
that all things end,
so value each moment, like a miser his coin.