Maybe I Can Plug it Up

 

The novelty of outrage

is worn out,

I’m beyond outrage’s reach,

I’m just sad now,

for so many bleeding

heart reasons.

 

It pains me so very much,

to read or hear the News,

and it makes me tearful,

when madness is the norm

over rationality.

But it isn’t outrage.

 

I am not outraged.

I am as disappointed

as a parent, hearing their

child lie about

something they know to

be untrue.

 

“Are you sure you don’t know

who broke the lamp,” asked Mother.

“I swear, I have no idea, it must have just

fallen over,” says Junior.

“Um-Hm,” says Mother, “you’re grounded.

I’m not mad you lied. I’m just disappointed.”

 

I am not mad.

I am disappointed.

I am not outraged.

I am sad.

 

Pundits and politicians,

clamoring for attention,

while the population of children’s graveyards

grows thanks to guns and fundamental human rights

are challenged by Right-wing nuts

who think their morality is the only morality.

 

I am sad.

I am not outraged.

My bleeding heart, is

bleeding,

out.

 

Maybe I can plug it,

maybe I can stop it,

like a nosebleed,

maybe leaning forward

is the right way,

tilting back,

is wrong.