Moon by Alphonse Mucha |
You call me inconsistent
when my patterns are obvious
to those who bother to observe.
There is nothing irregular
in my nighttime roving.
My feet quicken and slow
with my waxing and waning.
For this you dismiss me
and say my nature keeps me from understanding
what you have deemed important.
Perhaps you are right.
I have no wish to understand
a mind so closed.
Why would I be interested
in your idea of acceptable
with the stars' kisses
still fresh on my skin?
This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads: Take A Chance and Step into the Mythical World. It is also linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry 498.
People are not taught to be really virtuous, but to behave properly.
Liner Notes For This Groove: Sometimes peoples' ignorance enrages me and sometimes it makes me laugh. I had overheard part of a conversation where one older gent declared to younger one that women were destined to be unable to understand higher levels of virtue because of their gender.
I've been trying to keep a promise I made to myself to stay out of fruitless arguments. And the expression on his conversational partner's face told me that there was a good chance that choice morsel of dung was not going to go unaddressed. I let it be. Attitudes like that are going the way of the dinosaur (good riddance). I see the younger generations gleefully challenging old ideas. I chose to focus on the hope I feel when I hear young people speaking up rather than despair about the remaining pockets of fossilized ignorance, at least on that day.
So dear Groovers, what lights up your nights with hope? Let's talk about it down in the comments section. As always, drop a link to your cyberhome if you'd like to continue the chat there.
Song Choice: Bad Reputation by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts