As night flees down dark paths
from the early light,
dreams scatter into
The breathing air carries stories
of foreign pain
and domestic infighting
that will scream from our
headlines by noon. Bar the door.
Notes: Can you see a shape in this poem? I can’t be the only person experiencing Orange Fatigue. Sapped and enervated by the rapidity of bad to worse to unimaginable. Was there treason? I think of great E words to cope: escape, evade, elude, embark, excise enemy, evaporate enclosure, emolument eclipse.
Abandoning Orange Menace for fairy tale is even better: Maybe you can think of a few. Epic. Equal. Esprit. Elixir. Enchant.
The poem was inspired in part by this post-9/11 snippet:
“At night darkness knits
a giant cap to hold the dreams in….
Tonight the breathing air carries
headlines that will cross the ocean
by tomorrow. Bar the door.”
— by Naomi Shihab Nye, from the poem, Even at War, published in 19 Varieties of Gazelle, Poems of the Middle East, Greenwillow Books.