the passion of Michael Stipe

"we want to cover over the pain, in one way or another, identifying with victory or victimhood..."
-- Pema Chodron, from When Things Fall Apart

when the shit went down
I was already down
so I wasn't surprised
to see those buildings fall,
saddened, terrified,
but not surprised
it made sense
in a way
your own death does
when you see it
in the mirror

years later,
I am listening to REM on my Mp3 player

through their wet, weepy
watermelon center ode to 9/11,
I feel the birds
the secret flutter of wings
as they adjust their butts
on branches for a night's rest

it is cool in Lakewood
the walk to the library
always pleasant at this time of year

"you find it in your heart
it's pulling me apart..."
Michael Stipe croons
"you find it in your heart
.....CHANGE..."

and I am gyrating inside
to the music,
like Zorba the Greek,
to the bass-line,
which throws up its hands,
letting go, falling

and suddenly this too makes sense,
that all of our violence
is bullshit
our victimhood,
unfortunate,
even while it is
an illusion