Poetry: "November 6th, 2024"
A reflection on current events, and a word to those in need of hope.
Well.
This has been kind of a shitty week, hasn't it?
I have no rousing speech to give you, and I'm no good with words of wisdom in matters like this. The most I can share with you is a poem, haphazardly composed in the late hours of the day it is titled after. It is not polished or eloquent, nor is it intended to be. I intend for it to serve as a fragmented picture of the swirling, negative emotions I felt on the day in question.
TW for references to death/murder and suicidal ideation.
When I see the news, my stomach drops.
I cry and scream alone in my room.
I flee my family's house without saying a word.
The light and air feel different outside, like the universe is wrong.
(but of course it's wrong. it wasn't supposed to be this way.)
(it wasn't. IT WASN'T!)
At work I cannot begin a conversation without weeping.
I receive looks and words of sympathy. No one says much otherwise.
(what is there to say? "it won't be so bad. we'll all be okay." LIARS!)
The day passes me by as I move in a haze. I dread going home.
If I'm forced to sit down to dinner across from my father (damn him, damn him) and look at his smug face, I know that I will kill him where he sits.
(at least i would be taking a step to escape this house, this world, this life)
I am relieved when this does not come to pass. I flee back to my room, frightened and huddling and tired.
(so, so fucking tired)
My mother tries to say she understands. That this is how she felt four years ago.
(i hope your hell is real and that you burn)
The sickness comes again, the tears flow anew.
The sources of my happiness—my books, my games, my friends, my cats—turn gray and dull before my eyes.
Is there anything left in my soul? Love or hate? Sorrow or joy?
(there is no point. there is nothing worth saving. it would be a miracle to die. the whole forsaken world should DIE)
In the late hours, my eyes are red and my jaw is clenched and my tears are spent.
The world has still shifted. It will be so tomorrow.
I crawl at last into bed. I hope that I am cold and stiff and lifeless when the morning comes.
I know that I will be alive. For many mornings to come, I will be alive.
I will rebuild. I will change.
And my enemy in red will crumble before me.
I know that you too are feeling scared, and you might be feeling hopeless too. Take the time you need to grieve. And then prepare to continue the work of fighting tyranny.
The sad truth of the world is that evil and ignorance never go away. Real life has no final, decisive battle in which all the evil people are overthrown forever. Evil must be countered and uprooted every day—it's a dirty, unglamorous and wholly necessary task required of those who wish to create a better world.
Will we see that better world eventually? Are we all fucked for eternity? I can definitively tell you, "I don't know." None of us know what exactly is going to happen next, and the people online who tell you otherwise are lying to you. All I know is that history never ends. This will not be a permanent state of affairs.
So my advice to you is this: turn away from misery. Reject the echo chamber of gloom that is social media, and reach out to those who are already doing the necessary work. Research local activist groups and mutual aid organizations to get involved with, as I am doing. Cultivate a community of people you want to support and be supported by, and do not waste your energy on those who will not support you or be supported by you. Protect yourself from those who would hurt you. Take care of yourself. Take steps to improve your living situation, if it needs improving. Do not trick yourself into thinking that the necessary work requires you to set aside all happy things and moments of brevity. Without those happy things, you will forget why you work to begin with, and you will fall into despair.
The worst-case scenario for the coming years is just that right now—a scenario. I won't deny that it's a scenario in which most of us will probably not live to see the brighter future we are working towards. But that's been the case for untold activists over hundreds of years. And if that scenario comes to pass, we must remember that we are not just working for ourselves—we are working for the generations after us, so that they can have a world worth living in. So that they can have a world at all.
So roll up your sleeves and dig in your heels. We will become ungovernable to this mockery of an administration, and its leaders will regret every vile choice they've ever made.
Thank you for reading, and I will see you again.
—Dana
