the narrative

The narrative

The narrative that keeps us from the dark

How do we keep it on?

The rain

The moon

The stars

The sun

They all sing us this song

And on and on so many things as such

They keep us from the dawn 

In Search of Good: Episode 2 - Listen To Earth

The American Tapestry

The American tapestry, how it heals my soul and warms my heart. On the day of the Boston Marathon bombing on my way home listening to BBC radio some critics of the media coverage called it disgusting how disproportionate it was considering the recent terrorists attacks in Iraq and drone strike in Pakistan that mistakenly killed children among a group of Taliban militants. They were shocked over the wall to wall relentless coverage they felt was numbing, both in the US and in the UK. They are right. Although teary eyed listening to some of the speeches they felt rhetorical even pointless. The media should in fact craft the most pressing news balanced from the most loss or dread. The West Texas fertilizer plant disaster did not get nearly enough of the coverage it should have gotten perhaps under the same token, because it would be pointless and without a direct purpose for discussion or debate, the controversy that thrives on cable news outlets. There are so many issues that can be turned into a sensational vehicle to shock awe inspire and yes, entertain the viewer of news. Likewise could the substance.

The looting of the global economy by the corrupt financial establishment and the legal corruption it depends on alone could very well fill every minute of the news day with substance and a constant stream of investigative journalism we could all grasp and digest with the right sleight of hand, or wave of the magic “newsie” wand of headlines and literation graphics and sound effects.  Evidence that the media is in fact a conglomerate corporate entity is most evident in its super efficiency and cost effective approach of less as more. Big stories garner quick plane flights with crews for live shots to front stories and have their highly paid talent at the scene to provide the “coverage” like a blanket of cream skimming the surface and generalizing while disseminating all the information. One of the BBC talkers blasted twitter as dangerous in the wake of the false information it had spread about the Islamic man being questioned who was never a suspect but managed to make its way as headline news on the NY Post. There are many ways in which the media can warp our sensibilities and distort our perspectives but the endless vigils, makeshift memorials, videos of people singing like when the crowd took over the national anthem at the Bruins game, or when they sang in the street for no reason other than to express their love for humanity, or when the crowds came out and cheered the police in Watertown. No, that is not disgusting, that is not distorted, that is not disproportionate.   That is the American Identity. That is holding onto something we all love more than our lives as American; our freedom. The terrorism and war born carnage in Africa, Iraq, Pakistan, Syria, and so on until there is no more hate exists outside of this freedom we enjoy. It is the loss of this freedom that we fear most. That hope of democracy, that dream of liberty, is a blanket we swaddle in, like a shield against all ills. We are outraged, like the terrorists’ uncle in Maryland. How could an American kill innocent Americans?  It is inexplicable for us to believe that anyone who tastes the freedom and opportunity here in America can turn around and senselessly kill in the name of some theocratic abstraction bent on ultra conservative repression, especially in a land where Amish and Hassidics live peacefully and on their own terms.  Are we blind? Of course. Are we weak? Yes we are very weak and fragile. So much so that demonstrations of our courage and conviction whenever we can are cherished despite our feet being deep in the belly of a thieving beast billowing smoke that blinds and dulls our senses coarsely and erroneously. But that hope can never die. That need to feel united in our love of liberty shows itself whenever it is, framed whenever the trumpets sound.  So please do cover the marches, the singing, the candles lit, the 1-800 numbers that bring aid to the afflicted. It must remain rare to have our society so endangered, for it is too costly a price upon the altar of freedom for the innocent to be so harmed without displaying such evil as an extremely rare and foreign anomaly.

 left on the street to sing,

 scraping marble floors in dusted dread

A culture dead

 Mothers’ gone

fathers’ sold

lost songs forever bleeding fed

What soul found on drips of fate

as rusted cage with glided tongue

My heart melting still in rivers shill

And barking dogs

Alone to never know what triumphs hear

Our only flag through grinded mills of stolen dreams

they say Bergman stopped to watch the gulls
on the beach with Max Von Sydow
he wanted to let God in
or was it he who spoke

what beats forever more anew

For those that can not feel, but pain

find strength in easy earth and whimsy air

even wood or steel and strangers’ stares

yours to reap reminders of whole efforts bare

what love pervades to swoon

no longer flesh absolves

our triumphs like a raging fire still

oh power to exude a pool of blood and tears

and God does mind long to reflect

the gentle nature of  each breath

let only heart and love define

of angels earnest speak

a breathe of solace truth

holding eager peace complacent grace

what beats forever more anew

my Lord the end of want