I’m closing in on completing a new volume of poetry entitled, True Worldly Things. In some ways, I suppose it’s a companion piece to Living On The Outskirts Of Heaven, which was focused on the issue of realizing peace of mind. Anyway, a few weeks back, I found myself reflecting on complaining as a form of conversation as opposed to focused toward bringing about corrective action. Here’s one of poems in a short series on that theme.
Growing Up
Growing up we were told, “If you’ve nothing good
To say about someone, then say nothing at all.”
A degree of politeness even civility was expected.
Of course, we didn’t follow that all the time.
Some even learned to delight in saying unkind things.
But mostly we got the point about not being harsh
For the sake of getting along
More and more, conversations seem to occasion stories
About other people not pulling their weight, phoning it in
Getting away with something, just not doing the right thing
I wonder, sometimes, if we’re getting nervous?
Like there’s a report card due and we want to make it clear
That we’re not to blame for all the terrible, disappointing and really
Sad stuff going on day-in-and-day-out on this planet
We seem to be in constant need of reassurance about
How unjustly or poorly we’re being treated
By people who should know better but who apparently don’t.
We’re not to blame for the Iraqi dead and dispossessed
The gulf oil spill, the crooked companies
The dysfunctional government, the financial meltdown
The lousy health care system, the sub par schools, hunger
Pollution, global warming, species extinction…
It’s not us; it’s them who should be taking the heat.
Somehow, deep inside
I think we’re disappointed in us.
I think we know we’re better than this
And complaints
Are just not going to cut it