Sunday Poem #8: Choosing Sides
A poem for everything worth defending.
Happy Sunday, friends! It’s been a few weeks. In the flurry of book launching and just regular life, I kept forgetting to schedule Sunday poems. Let’s ease back in with one from last year’s NovPAD that’s quickly become a favorite around here.
Choosing Sides
If I have to pick a side,
let me side with the bees,
with summer blossoms and
winter snowdrifts.
Let me side with the children
I know and the ones I don’t,
with the late-shift nurse
and his aching back,
with the grandmother
digging in her garden.
Let me side with the earth
in all her sighing, the stars
in all their singing, with
stray dogs and street artists,
with orphans and widows.
Like Berry,
let me say everything was for
love of the forest I will never
see, the harvest I will never
reap. I pledge my allegiance
to the world to come. I wrote this poem in November 2022. Shortly after I shared it on Instagram, a friend asked me if this was a low-key election season poem. And I told her it’s not… but it’s also not not that.
This is not going to become another “wow we’re so polarized” statement. I don’t need to tell you that again. Instead, it’s a big sigh, and a vague gesture, and the fact that a couple weeks ago I realized we are in another election cycle in the U.S. already and that made me mildly depressed for a day.
So. Choosing Sides.
When it comes to politics / aforementioned polarized times, I have my views (many very strong!) but I have spent the last couple decades learning to tread lightly, to explore nuance, to avoid words like “always” and “never.” At the same time, as the world grows more complex, some things become more clear than ever.
That the earth is good and beautiful and sometimes terrifying. That my nieces and nephews and the kids running laps around my church every Sunday deserve a world left better than we found it. That the ones doing quiet, hidden work are changing the world. So, in a sense, this poem is a pledge of loyalty.
Some nerdy writing notes:
The Wendell Berry Name-Drop: “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front” is a poem I love so freakin’ much. (He already said everything better with “Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.” ) Poetry is a conversation, so I’d like to hope this is my small effort to enter the chat.
Stray dogs and street artists: I played with many versions of this line. Landing on the repeated “st-” sound and rhythm brings me so much joy.
Also, still haven’t gotten over these rad typewriter prints by JJ Brinski that he made for the book launch. Shared elsewhere, but they deserve to live here. Collaboration is fun!
Love you and your poems ❤️ 💕 💖 💛 💗