Racism Can’t Be Healed Without Facing The Truth About Patriarchy.

As so many have written this past week, the verdict in the George Floyd case has almost been hard to believe for those whose hope long since hardened within the cruel and human legacy of racist violence in our country. The Derek Chauvin verdict, nonetheless, offers evidence that America is…

What I don’t want to face
is the 1001 ways
I don’t understand,
can’t figure it out,
won’t be able to explain,
or do enough
of anything
to right the world.

What I don’t want to face
is that this woman’s body
can’t carry its history
without help. Without
a hand from others…

Across the tip of my monitor
beyond the top edge where contact
with humanity ends, I see
successive lines leading upwards to
a final one that
rolls across the expanse of my vision,
rising and falling along
the crests of distant trees.

Demarcated by shades fading
from green to grey, the…

I spent all morning avoiding the gold biscuit tin
with the wide, cellophane tape wrapped tightly around the lid.
On arrival, I’d signed off with Fed Ex at the front door.
“This box contains cremated remains,” the note said.

I felt nothing.

But now, by afternoon, my circles around the…

How much of life needs to break down
at first slowly
then in ways, unimaginable.
And not only here,
but here
and here
and here…

How much needs to be turned inside out
make no sense
as day after day
familiar routines fade into memory
and fate makes folly, once and again, of…

The more we dissect something
the more we name its smallest parts
and name its whole

the more we believe
in the doing
we are making something
called ‘science’
- making something called

The more we seek to identify and name
what we have ‘discovered’
so we can birth more things…

A morning prayer for men (and those similarly afflicted by patriarchy.)

May I awake each day remembering
I am not the master of
all that follows.

May the light casting through the window remind me
that the uprightness of my home depends
upon the power
of a far-away sun.

May I remember how little I know of that sun,
its un-thinkable scale,

Karin Swann

Writer/student of the truth. Lives at the intersection of philosophy, the gender (r)evolution, politics, psychology and art of parenting. karinswann.life

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