Tired of Politics
I have never been someone
prone to discuss politics,
preferring to keep my opinions
and let others keep theirs.
People who’ve known me for a long time
will vouch for me here, adding
that I avoided religious discussions as well.
I was raised to believe that voting
was not just a privilege, but a duty,
and thought that was sufficient;
if my vote turned out to be in the minority,
at least I had the right to complain about the results.
But recently I have been forced
to leave silence in the corner.
I hear my father’s voice whispering in my ear;
my father, who was beaten for refusing
to salute the Nazi flag,
my father, an immigrant, who came to America
to escape Fascism and build a dream,
my father, who fought and bled
for his new country,
the land he loved until the day he died.
I hear my father’s voice, choked with tears,
saying I cannot be silent anymore,
that is a luxury none of us can afford.
So I speak out, though it is not my nature
and conflict leaves me drained to my soul.
I am tired of the lies,
of the people who tell them,
of the people who believe them,
and the people who see them for what they are
and just don’t care.
I am tired of the greed,
of the spoiled rich who only want more,
who will never have enough,
who, like an evil Robin Hood from a dark universe,
steal from the poor to fill their coffers.
I am tired of the violence,
the hatred for people who are different,
whether the difference is race, creed, religion,
gender, or sexual orientation.
I am tired of watching innocents die
and nobody seeming to give a damn.
Whatever happened to the Golden Rule?
When did we stop striving for our better nature?
None of us is perfect and we all have our prejudices,
but I am tired of those who refuse to own their faults,
who perpetrate the current madness claiming, “Not me!”
I am bone weary of the daily barrage of insanity,
where nothing is so bizarre that it’s obvious parody,
where truth is definitely stranger than fiction.
I want it to all go away so I can go back to life as I knew it,
where conversations were civil, mostly intelligent, often funny,
and didn’t leave me with headache and the urge to weep.
I am tired,
but I will, I must, persist,
as long as my father whispers in my ear.
~Elise Skidmore ©2018