Monsters
September 18, 2020
Ruth Bader Ginsberg is dead
And no one is coming to save us
The generation that came and went
Has failed so completely
It’s not worth mentioning
The children are rising up
And they are beautiful
But how dare we ask them
To do what we will not?
What we must
But for this night I set aside work
To drink tea
Light a candle
Stare into a night without stars
The chill whispering of darker days ahead
Sit shiva for the world
I failed
To make for my daughter
It does not feel new
It feels worn and tired and ugly
Like so many demons are now
Unwilling to stay buried
My hand holding my
One small shovel
Shakes.
Tonight I will ask the darkness
For its respects
But tomorrow:
We must no longer pile soil
But dig past shame
Till we reach the root
And keep going
No matter how tightly it entwines
Every choice we have made
Root and stem and branch
All our complicity
She is dead
And this is not a game
If we who remain
Want to survive this
We must call up her courage
No longer having the privilege
Of pretending we can’t see the monsters
That we’ve excused
That we’ve embraced
That we’ve become
