A Sentry Toward A Living Escape

Morning Thoughts #249

If we are to be conquered, let our conquerors have earned it, not like what assails us now. If it must happen, let it happen at the hands of the stronger and better, not merely surrendered out of comfort-born cowardice. And let me repeat myself: If.

Let us write. Anything can be a source of inspiration, even systemic loss. Poems written within one set of cultural confines that cannot be translated beyond them. And yet, eyeing that threat, writing away anyway. Getting the last word in takes on a whole other meaning when they are the last words spoken or written in a language altogether. May the prospect of “last words” end up inspiring many more!

Today, a Wednesday in an office, let us say, on some 17th floor. The book in my backpack: a memoir from World War I. Oh, how far I am from those trenches, seemingly—eye-level with the gulls outside these corporate windows. And yet, somehow, captured by a similar feeling of fighting a meaningless war.

Let us write ourselves out of it, a sentry toward a living escape.