Many and various

There are so many people, so many opinions. Too many. Cacophony. It's difficult to focus one's attentions on what really matters. Memory. Connection. Compassion. Empathy.

These are the stock and trade of writers, particularly of poets. I can't not rally behind those who champion these virtues and fight tooth and nail all who oppose them.

Yet. I find myself in the somewhat unique position among so many of my liberal peers of coming from a purple world. In which there are people for whom I care deeply whose views and values do not make sense to me, and are in many instances antithetical to everything I hold dear. How do I continue to love these people? How to have a cordial conversation, even? We hold a tacit agreement for now to not challenge one another on politics, to not name the orange-headed elephant in the room. How long can the dam hold? I am uncertain. But things will break down eventually. And then we'll find something else to hold onto. Because that's what people who love one another do. They fuck up. They try again.

We can do better.


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