A Poet Learns the Limitations of Her Craft

By | 15 September 2022

I am singing a song that can only be born after losing a country.
—Joy Harjo

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[Urgent]
This cannot fit into a poem.
This should be a political pamphlet.

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[Scandalous]
This should be a white paper.

▅▅▅▅▅!
[Chilling]
This should be the slogan on all our streets.

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[Shameful]
This is apartheid. Who will boycott the boycotters?

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[Horror]
This should be an HRW-Amnesty International report.

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[Heartbreaking]
This should be a thoroughly researched documentary film.

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[Disturbing]
This should be a long-read in The New York Times.

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[Haunting]
History will never absolve us.
Their long march home is a story to be told to our future generations.

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[Oppressive]
When will our political class break its silence?

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[Depressing]
When will all the progressive forces unite against Hindutva fascists?

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[Outrageous]
Why does the state police women’s bodies with impunity?

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[Devastating]
Such sacrifice!
When will we have our revolution?



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[Warning]
The price will always be paid in blood.

What is the use of a poem in this season of hate?
The regular cliches: A desperate cry for help,
an act of witness, a scream into the void?

What is the use of a poet in a season of bloodshed?

Tell me, dear ones.
Is she the one who grieves?

Is she the one who guards the embers
of a people’s rage?

Is she the one who mirrors
your shattered heart?

Or, is she the one
who speaks to show
she is not yet dead?

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