I Don’t Want to Buy the World a Coke

planet of the blind

People dying for all the usual reasons: God, real estate, and wantonness. But since the Spanish American War, the United States has injected its own brand of imperial blundering into region after region. If you look to history for confirmation of US colonialism as a stabilizing influence you will not find it. I’ve often thought that instead of chanting for world peace Americans who care should be chanting for regional stability—it sounds less dreamy, and in truth it would be a slap at the CIA. Our entire foreign policy is based on inflammation.

I don’t want to buy the world a Coke. I’d prefer to give it Advil.

Meantime I think of the possible newly disabled…violence creates them…

Disability can be found everywhere in history once you learn to look for it. President Lincoln’s depression lead him to abandon the White House for several days. When he returned he unveiled the Emancipation Proclamation to his startled cabinet.

Lincoln’s moodiness allowed him to reflect on the value of life and on what was right. That’s Lincoln’s story. Not all who are bi-polar have the moral qualities of Lincoln. And not all depressed people ask themselves what the nature of suffering can teach them. Yet after a certain age one finds this caste of mind is important. What does it mean to feel my heart is ripped out and is now under my shoe? The proper tears, those mixed with luck, tell us to walk for a time because weeping can be a map. Maps, all maps, are born of agonies. One sees disability wisdoms are not often or probable in textbooks. Look for the stains at the paper’s edges.

As a poet I like the margins.

There are so many minutes for which no proper names exist. Deep in the night I carved my name on a seed. Now I’ve awakened outside the broken temple.

Mr. Lincoln I am sad this morning.

I’m thinking of these lines by Cesar Vallejo, the great Peruvian poet:

“There are blows in life so violent—I can’t answer!

Blows as if from the hatred of God; as if before them,

the deep waters of everything lived through

were backed up in the soul … I can’t answer!”

(translated by Robert Bly)

Oh I can’t answer but I’m searching the corrugated quick of the page.

Mr. Lincoln…


Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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