I Want to Write a Love Song

Writing to write

I want to write a love song
but I cannot find the notes,
so I cut all the guitar strings
and trap the lyrics in my throat.

I want to write a speech,
but I cannot find a cause,
so I shut down my computer
and wire shut my jaws.

I want to write a novel,
but I cannot find the plot,
so I crumple up my paper
and leave it all to be forgot.

I want to write a poem,
but I cannot find a message,
so I scribble all these words down
and hope there’s still value in this passage.

Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels

I’ve been working on this poem for about a month. I’ve recently been prioritizing some newer posts because I thought their messages were more pressing. In the time between when this poem was written and now that it is being published, I read this poem by My Lucid Sonder that shares some similarities with mine. If you like my poem’s theme, check out theirs as well!

Also, even though this poem is not themed around social justice issues, it is important that we utilize the momentum that we have right now instead of letting our outrage die down. As such, I am going to be including a link to a cause or a resource related to justice at the end of my posts for the foreseeable future. Today’s is a carrd of ways to support and stay informed about the Black Lives Matter Movement.

Silver Moon Rises, Or And the Rockets’ Red Glare

there is fighting for the freedoms
that the comfortable among us
thought were won a century ago

the sunset shades of red and orange
and the black of the city below
the tumult of the world
in hue
the needless bloodshed
the destruction of morals
the sense of
utter hopelessness

there is fighting for the freedoms
that the comfortable among us
thought were won a century ago
or half a century ago
or a decade ago.
so why is the sky still filled with red,
with anger
with vitriol?
it’s crying out in solidarity
with those
who currently battle for change

the sky says nothing more,
just stares down
at the torn-up town,
brow furrowed,
face red-hot
with rage

a lone, shadowed man stands at his window
as the birds caw and flee
from his rooftop.
through the glass,
he sees the red, the orange,
he sees the faintly tinted violet
peeking through,
and he sees the silver sliver of a moon
rising over it all

Photo by Mind Core

This was written in response to Photo Challenge #318 from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.

Also shared on earthweal’s open link weekend.