No time for eloquence
to fall upon frustrated ears.
No Sanhedrin and no Saul,
the onlooker was but a call
away, shielded behind the safety
of the bloodied panic button.
A glutton for punishment
and conscription, was voluntary.
No time for eloquence
to fall upon frustrated ears.
No Sanhedrin and no Saul,
the onlooker was but a call
away, shielded behind the safety
of the bloodied panic button.
A glutton for punishment
and conscription, was voluntary.
How do you convey violence, its impact and aftermath: explain everything and nothing, stand up and remain anonymous? How do you explore and challenge conceptions of – and blurred distinctions between – victim and perpetrator, participant and witness, guilt and innocence, blame and responsibility, fear and courage, fact and truth and fiction? How do you convey stark, brutal and often incompetent reality without visceral detail? How do you challenge your assumptions and maintain self, vision and experience? And can it really be done in less than 50 words? To what end?
I can’t answer.
15 years to figure out how I wanted to approach a subject. Another year for that idea to rest, develop and take shape. And in the end a matter of minutes to write.
A blur.
A lifetime.
It seems appropriate to post the finished piece on the feast day after Christmas, where it will pass unnoticed – which is as it is should be. A merry Christmas to you all.
on a bench
beneath a tree
within the walls
they were betrothed