Hi, Hiveans lovers of poetry.
Difficult moments we're going through right now. Some will love you and help you (and thank you), but some will try to eat you (dead or) alive. Watch out.
THe Raft of the Medusa by Théodore Géricault (1818-19)- Wikimedia Commons
What We Believe (a poem)
Sometimes life hits you hard right in the face
and makes you realize wrong is alive.
It has a pumping heart, a brain and will,
and tricks to fool the goodness in your mind.
Those who believe in great almighty beings
may pray and feel content enough to sleep
and hope next morning will present its balms
along with providence and healing prizes.
But those who like me are alone on earth
surrounded by no more than smoke and mirrors,
think sure it’s us who bring pain to our souls;
think that alone we are to make our choices
although the heart with this may not rejoice.
Evil is us and good is us; that's all.
We might differ, but our natures won't.
The Raft of the Medusa (1818-19) represents a real event. Approximately 147 people were set adrift on a raft which had been built in a hurry. Only fifteen survived and were rescued on the thirteenth day; by this moment they had undergone the horrifying adversities of shipwreck, having to practice cannibalism being the worst of them. History (people who wrote it) has tied the luck of these victims to the will of a single person, the captain, and it has made the latter guilty. But what takes us all to situations like this, captains included? Who has toppled the first domino piece? We might never agree on the answer, but there is an answer for sure although we might never get to know it. Even the captains of captains have been denied the priviledge of this knowledge.
Thanks for reading poems,
and for not eating your brothers and sisters during this quarantine.