The Humans
by Mikele Rauch
Do you know how it was with us?
There were divisions in those days that we believed were greater than in
earlier times
We lamented that the situation was fragile
more doubly troubled than before
It was a time when we doubted others could take the world forward
We almost believed other people’s country or children or faith-based
initiatives were less sufficient than our own
We often spoke with loud words from our particular stances or stanzas
barely listening to the ones from far afield
rarely hearing the hints in every conflict of what it was we all hoped for
equally
We worried whether we would survive our own gall
We were outraged
sometimes we were surely numb
Some of us danced, though, like the odd blond mustastioed man in tweed
who taught us the kolo last winter while we circled like madmen in the
steam bath gymnasium
(and, remember that newly spiked matron feeling more alive and free
since before her menarche?)
Late in the season, some of us filed into new lines of belief
Others stepped out of the cue and
rediscovered their soul
We were still dying of course, much like we were living
or dying unfortunately
before we figured what it was we had lived for
Often, as always, it was hard to watch
Children, barely budding, died too—and that never made sense.
Others, larger but still green
squandered precious brain cells
for love
or lust
for this war or that one
for anything luscious
for nothing
Sometimes we hoarded
Sometimes we kept secrets
or did not honor trust
Sometimes we did enormous harm to others
who did not ask for it
Tears were shed
We all laughed or drank
or ate sweets
And were not—no not really so much—that different
from left to right, than the we who would come after the next
end of the world
longing for love
longing for God
(or some other diety with a name like Chenrezi or Chuck)
beating drums
or chests
or doors:
Open
Open to me
Mikele Rauch is an artist who works with words and media to communicate the outrage and the wonder of the world. She is one of the founding members of the MaleSurvivor.org International Weekends of Recovery Team and chair of TakingBackOurselves, an organization aimed to empower women survivors of sexual abuse. The work presented here represents the aspects of compassion in the midst of violence—the grief and the hope, and the vision of what is possible.
by Mikele Rauch
Do you know how it was with us?
There were divisions in those days that we believed were greater than in
earlier times
We lamented that the situation was fragile
more doubly troubled than before
It was a time when we doubted others could take the world forward
We almost believed other people’s country or children or faith-based
initiatives were less sufficient than our own
We often spoke with loud words from our particular stances or stanzas
barely listening to the ones from far afield
rarely hearing the hints in every conflict of what it was we all hoped for
equally
We worried whether we would survive our own gall
We were outraged
sometimes we were surely numb
Some of us danced, though, like the odd blond mustastioed man in tweed
who taught us the kolo last winter while we circled like madmen in the
steam bath gymnasium
(and, remember that newly spiked matron feeling more alive and free
since before her menarche?)
Late in the season, some of us filed into new lines of belief
Others stepped out of the cue and
rediscovered their soul
We were still dying of course, much like we were living
or dying unfortunately
before we figured what it was we had lived for
Often, as always, it was hard to watch
Children, barely budding, died too—and that never made sense.
Others, larger but still green
squandered precious brain cells
for love
or lust
for this war or that one
for anything luscious
for nothing
Sometimes we hoarded
Sometimes we kept secrets
or did not honor trust
Sometimes we did enormous harm to others
who did not ask for it
Tears were shed
We all laughed or drank
or ate sweets
And were not—no not really so much—that different
from left to right, than the we who would come after the next
end of the world
longing for love
longing for God
(or some other diety with a name like Chenrezi or Chuck)
beating drums
or chests
or doors:
Open
Open to me
Mikele Rauch is an artist who works with words and media to communicate the outrage and the wonder of the world. She is one of the founding members of the MaleSurvivor.org International Weekends of Recovery Team and chair of TakingBackOurselves, an organization aimed to empower women survivors of sexual abuse. The work presented here represents the aspects of compassion in the midst of violence—the grief and the hope, and the vision of what is possible.