Poem of the Week, by Danez Smith

The man in the white shirt, black pants, and briefcase, the one who stepped in front of the tank in Tiananmen Square and just stood there. The girl in the long dress who slid a flower into the barrel of the gun the officer had trained on her. The woman who ended up becoming a second mother to the boy who murdered her own son. In the face of justifiable horror at Israeli and Palestinian deaths and unjustifiable antisemitism, these are the people I’m thinking about these days.
Little Prayer, by Danez Smith
let ruin end here
let him find honey
where there was once a slaughter
let him enter the lion’s cage
& find a field of lilacs
let this be the healing
& if not let it be
For more information about the wondrous Danez Smith, please check out their website. Note that a version of this post first appeared in 2017.
Sometimes I feel so sad for men. All the unspoken rules. All the ways our culture tries to train boys out of their openness, their gentleness, their human need for hugs and touch. I think of the multiple men I know who have told no one but me the ways they were sexually abused as children. I think of my giant of a father, and the look on his face when he told me how his mother used to scream at him when he was little. I think of all the men I know who depend on the women they love to translate the world of emotion for them, to navigate the nuances of relationships. I think of how sex sometimes seems the only acceptable way for a man to give and receive physical affection, the only time they can let down their guard.