Poem by my mother, Lorna Anderson, 1963
This is an hour to be critical,
To take selective tweezers, and to grasp
The public figure meant to represent us all:
Dissect his words, slice superfine his acts
And place them in the light of studied thought
As 'neath a microscope, and single out
This careless attitude, that shaded turn,
As tissues, cells and germs that bode disease.
This is not time for tolerance or love,
Nor gentleness or patience; it is time
For surgery, implacable and swift,
Or liberty be forfeit.
(Excerpt)
Saturday, January 21, 2017
3 comments:
I'm having to moderate all comments because Blogger seems to have a problem notifying me. Sorry about that. I will review them several times daily, though, until this issue is fixed.
Also, I have word verification on, because I found out that not only do I get spam without it, but it gets passed on to anyone commenting in that thread. Not cool!
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Wise words. Do you know who she was writing about?
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure. But it was the height of the Vietnam War, under Kennedy, then Johnson that year; and my brother had been drafted. So that is probably the context.
ReplyDeleteVery appropriate words for this week. - Margy
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