July 9: Adrienne Rich, "What Kind of Times Are These," Donald Trump

What Kind of Times Are These

by:  Adrienne Rich

There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill

and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows

near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted

who disappeared into those shadows.

I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled

this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,

our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,

its own ways of making people disappear.

I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods

meeting the unmarked strip of light—

ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:

I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you

anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these

to have you listen at all, it's necessary

to talk about trees.

_________________________

Tonight, Donald Trump will probably make another terrible decision that could affect my country for the next 20 or 30 or 40 years.

So, this evening, I turn to a woman who knew a few things about speaking the truth.

Saint Marty would rather listen to her than Donald Trump.