October 31, 2020
Sometimes I stumble
upon old news I somehow missed --
in this vortex of that —
news I would have certainly
worried about, had I not missed it,
yet it is now too late,
the murders of yesteryear,
as if there were ever any shortage of them.
The mind cannot digest the aggregate
miseries of the world
without choking on empathy and fear.
I stumble upon old news I missed,
grateful that it has spared my nerves
without giving me a guilty conscience,
the outcomes of past conflicts,
no longer uncertain. I can feel
sad, or neutral, or happy,
but there is nothing to be afraid of any longer.
Had I not missed the news,
I would have worried myself sick,
sometimes to the point
of physically straining a muscle.
Viscous Verses is edited by Art & Letters (artandlettersmagazine.squarespace.com).