Ophthalmologically

[michaelboy]

There are folks who seem to wait for the next joy in discovering a debit and be one of the first to exclaim a hearty "How dare they" in unifying and gathering motions. Of course it's often genuine injustice and the causes are often well-considered, elaborate and sound. However, it seems in a self-nourishing way, that such a focus endures as its own instrument of myopia (when tended so closely).

I guess maybe it gets a bit harder to see good when looking for bad. But still it seems that posion ivy doesn't become a summer meadow in entirety, unless you consider it so.

* * *

Even though I try

I can't remember your name -- because it's only written in learned circles -- yet if it were scribed on sun-soaked linen by soft morning fingers, then I'd know you well. This would be your scent, and memorably, also the essence of desire.

Comments

[keplers_angels]

There is no joy in finding new (and never ending) places that one is being oppressed, demeaned, prohibited. As Lindy West so succinctly put it, (paraphrasing because I don't recall her exact words) "Feminism is the slow realization that everything you love hates you." There is zero pleasure in this. It is a long slow process of erosion. Those who still use their lungs to shout about their mistreatment -- they are working for all of us, because many of us have worn our own lungs out - but they still burn. Those who are shouting... they are our anguish's only voice, our only hope.

[michaelboy]

Wise words, especially for those voices that are war-worn.