October 6, 2024

Give me weapons of minute destruction

Challenged by [gestures broadly at everything].

Sustained by the echo of small joys: gallons of tea shared with a friend; long walks in beautiful places; multi-layered, decades-old inside jokes; the spontaneous laughter of a niece or nephew; the right song at the right time; holding hands in an airport somewhere; uninterrupted hours spent in the company of a really excellent book.

Renewed by a commitment to ensuring joy remains possible, remains achievable, remains accessible, is a priority, is not for yourself alone but for others.

Attribution

have I spoken out? Who
have I tried to move? In
this holy season, I stand
self-convicted of sloth
in a time when lies choke

the mind and rhetoric
bends reason to slithering
choking pythons. Here
I stand before the gates
opening, the fire dazzling

my eyes, and as I approach
what judges me, I judge
myself. Give me weapons
of minute destruction. Let
my words turn into sparks.
— from The birthday of the world by Marge Piercy