242

I made this decision
about writing early on
or maybe I should say late
last year that I would write
everyday in 2013
a poem, something of
my own need to rhyme
or make reason of the world
in verse, with my heart
cut open and the proverbial
"bleeding on the page"
with pen and here I am
in Texas, in Desoto
watching tennis and listening
to Fringe science as if it
were more real than the war
just on the boundaries
of our world... 

Syria's children and women
are dying because their government
sees them as expendable
the necessary cost of ruling
a world they envision
and about to die
because our government
sees some "good" in death
named war by invasion
and how are 
we to understand 
it in this moment

242 days I've sat
at my computer
or with my journal
speaking with my
writing partner in my head
I've sat here promising
and keeping this promise
to write even while I struggle
to stay connected to all
the rest of the work 
at the tip of my fingers
my intellectual
offering to the world
how was I to know
when I started 242 days
ago that I would be
able to just write
even when it
makes no sense

Valerie Bridgeman
© August 30, 2013