(The Date the Tragedy Started)
A poem about everything that has been stuck in our chests since March of 2020
Good morning!
I wrote this poem this past spring. It started as a text rant to a friend, developed into a convoluted first draft, broke into two different poems, was edited in form and tone 15ish times, and is now being sent to you! I am choosing to share “(The Date the Tragedy Started)” as it was one of the poems that prompted me to push the idea of “there has to be more” further than just the recesses of my mind.
Although the world was in a different state when this poem was crafted, it still feels fresh. For me, this poem was the war in Ukraine, a friend’s death, and quarantining. Yet, it can just as easily be the most recent school shooting, inflation, or the overturning of Roe. External chaos in society seems constant. This poem hopes to look at the internalization of that chaos. However, if it does nothing for you, maybe it will convince you to pay attention to the flags you see each day. When was the last time they were fully raised? When should they be raised and when should they not?
As always, I hope that this email finds you well and leaves you better <3
Without further ado: