I Protest!

I’m tired of trying to be good. Living respectfully and peacefully in the midst of turmoil is WORK.

For many days now I’ve snatched only two or three hours of sleep each night. Story deadlines, income tax paperwork, and stupid physical pain make sleep elusive. Lack of it makes me irritable, and I sneer at my previous post: Peace on earth, pah! Give me peace in my own bed, and then we’ll talk.

These days I find myself cynically hysterical. Ever heard of “restless leg syndrome,” in which some mysterious force compels your legs to move constantly at night? You can’t sleep because your lower body attempts to propel you around the equator when you lie down in bed.

Just exactly when my overwrought mind suffers from a severe case of “restless brain syndrome,” my trusty legs decided to join the game. They chose to dance along with my carpal-tunnel hands, puny lungs, and disintegrating spine, all new companions since my mother died last August.

Screw Pollyanna today. Coupled with another death, a dire medical diagnosis and a fractured family, this added crap irritates the hell out of me. Enough already! I feel like my Lordly Professor has handed me way too much homework.

I write poetry now only on weekends so I can enjoy the world tour on TFE’s Poetry Bus, always a source of pleasure. This week, the Irish Watercats demand a short protest poem in a strict rhythmic form. (Rebel link) I am thrilled to comply! This is how I chose to vent:

Corporations draft our laws,
Line their pockets in the cause
Of greater wealth, richer men.
Gluttons rule the planet, then.

I’m a political cynic who wishes America would remember democracy for the common people and the theories of the men who designed a government dedicated to equality. I don’t often espouse my beliefs, but this week I got fired up about a revolutionary idea: Strip corporate America of its political power. Lobbyists paid by wealthy special interest groups draft much of our legislation, which of course benefits those interests, while The People sweat to make ends meet. Don’t get me started. I’ll return to my usual optimistic self another day.

(Update on the following morning, a quiet kick-back Sunday)

Got hours of beautiful sleep. Still irritable and cynical, but not hysterical. Note to self: Temporary grumbling allowed ... but never forget how blessed thou art.