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As She Holds Us | Poetry

Gifting the Pepper: Digital Art by Shawn Michel de Montaigne





If the evening holds,

I’ll be out holding it.


The daily news is a cacophony of catastrophe.

The truly good are silenced

while the hateful and the soul-dead are raised up and glorified.

Nobody’s listening.

Nobody’s watching.

Nobody cares.


It is so difficult to sit at this computer sometimes

and write, and think, and create.

It all feels so useless, so pointless.

I hope that my stories change the world.

But my hope is futile, I fear.

This species is hell-bent on destroying itself.

It cares nothing for anything real,

anything truly authentic.

It cares nothing for anything that isn’t held up

and fawned over by the masses.


What desperate, monstrous times!


Glimmers of hope, of a future worth living in ...

they show themselves sometimes.

But then the shadows rush in

and overwhelm them.

The greedy. The haters. The trolls. The propagandists.

The fascists. The hope-killers. The cynics. The consumers.


Mornings I must tell myself

—constantly—

that the future isn’t set,

that the assholes haven’t won.

Not yet.

I tell myself that as fiercely as they are fighting

to destroy us,

to rape this world,

that it’s good that truly spins this world;

it’s good that truly matters,

that truly has the upper, and final, hand.


It is incredibly difficult to do.

Impossible many days.

But maybe that’s the point.

Faith isn’t for them—the destroyers, the rapists, the consumers,

the callous, the indifferent, the slackers, the moronic,

the propagandists, the fascists, the fundamentalists.


It isn’t for those who have sold their soul

to the Orange Ass Boil, either.


It is only for those of us who, in times like these,

still wake and create.

Who still hold to goodness,

who still hold to the evenings

as she holds us.





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From Fractalverse: Volume Six

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Featured: Gifting the Pepper, by yours truly