To Fiona Apple
and the Five Returning Students of St. Mary’s College:
January 1998
I am so tightly wound.
I am so frustrated.
I don’t understand why I let it all get to me.
Why do I furrow my brow at the injustice?
Why do I question the actions of my fellow man?
Why do I think I can change the world?
Why do I think that it is my responsibility to make the world better;
to make it see where it has gone wrong?
Why do I care
and through that caring, bring pain to myself?
The pain is real.
It sets my stomach in knots.
It sets my head to reeling;
spinning round and round
with no fruit born of rampant,
raging thought.
I go round and round;
in circles,
treading ruts in the ground,
and nothing is done.
And even if I were there,
even if I had been along for the ride,
would I not be the first one dead?
Would my presence and actions have caused more harm?
Would I have been held to useless inactivity
by fear
or physical force
and thus felt the pain all the more?
And that would ruin my life
For I would know who I truly am,
And where my limits lie.
For as long as I only imagine
What has happened
And what role I would have played,
I can be the hero
and I am safe.
Reality would see it different.
So while I sit here,
in my safe haven,
drinking my coffee,
lamenting,
I know
I could not have done anything –
Just as now
I can do nothing.
And yet “what if” keeps going through my mind.
And all these “what ifs”
don’t let me sleep;
And all these “what ifs”
don’t let me rest.
And all these “what ifs” forge
Fear,
Anger,
Rage,
Frustration.
And all of these “what ifs” mean nothing –
for they are not what is,
and that lacking letter makes all of the difference.
“What is” is what I have done,
and that
is nothing.
I know I cannot save the world;
I know I cannot change the world;
and I know
I cannot stop trying.
The sleepless nights
I have devoted to problems without number
have brought nothing,
and I am still sleepless.
Powerless –
truly that is what I am,
and while I know this,
I do not believe.
I believe
I could have changed the situation;
I believe
I could have done something.
And I believe I can
though time has passed,
and I know I cannot.
So which is stronger
knowledge or belief?
I do not know.
I cannot measure the strength of either,
and I have yet to be tested.
And if that test comes,
I hope I am ready.
I hope I am strong,
and yet,
I know of the rabbit inside –
Lacking the skills,
Lacking the demeanor.
He fears everything –
the hawk,
the thunder,
the cat,
the footsteps,
the dog,
the rifle.
His claws bring him no comfort;
His teeth have no bite.
Time is no friend;
Circumstance no ally.
The garden is not his domain;
just borrowed space
‘til the farmer rids himself of the pest.
And fear
drives the rabbit;
Timid is he.
And when the test comes
will I be the rabbit;
running from danger,
unwilling to sacrifice myself for my fellow man,
unable to consider I may win the battle –
And that battle,
which would ultimately be won,
would be against fear.
I do not look for the red badge of courage –
For it was won by the rabbit
as he fled.
I do not look for the hero’s welcome –
For he who has had such
has never been a hero.
I look for confirmation
of what I believe of myself.
I look for answers
to the questions of my nature.
I look for that undefinable element
which may be found in every man;
Yet,
It is rarely found in any man.
And in all my searching,
I will never find that which I seek.
A resolution to the crisis,
in which we all find ourselves.
If I have been vague
in my rambling way,
Understand,
I know no different
For the vagueness
of the rambling
is in itself a way
for me to comfort the disquiet in my soul.
A temporary measure.
A self delusion.
A reaching for support from the masses,
A lie to all,
A delusion pulled over the minds of everyone.
I apologize
if I have written,
unknowningly,
the untruth of my life.
But
if you look deeper,
you may find the kernel of truth;
The small part
I have felt to the core
and know what I know and believe –
together, they are the strongest of bonds.
And I am unable to break away.
I am so tightly wound.
I am so frustrated.
I don’t understand why I let it all get to me.
Why do I furrow my brow at the injustice?
Why do I question the actions of my fellow man?
Why do I think I can change the world?
Why do I think that it is my responsibility to make the world better;
to make it see where it has gone wrong?
Why do I care
and through that caring, bring pain to myself?
The pain is real.
It sets my stomach in knots.
It sets my head to reeling;
spinning round and round
with no fruit born of rampant,
raging thought.
I go round and round;
in circles,
treading ruts in the ground,
and nothing is done.
And even if I were there,
even if I had been along for the ride,
would I not be the first one dead?
Would my presence and actions have caused more harm?
Would I have been held to useless inactivity
by fear
or physical force
and thus felt the pain all the more?
And that would ruin my life
For I would know who I truly am,
And where my limits lie.
For as long as I only imagine
What has happened
And what role I would have played,
I can be the hero
and I am safe.
Reality would see it different.
So while I sit here,
in my safe haven,
drinking my coffee,
lamenting,
I know
I could not have done anything –
Just as now
I can do nothing.
And yet “what if” keeps going through my mind.
And all these “what ifs”
don’t let me sleep;
And all these “what ifs”
don’t let me rest.
And all these “what ifs” forge
Fear,
Anger,
Rage,
Frustration.
And all of these “what ifs” mean nothing –
for they are not what is,
and that lacking letter makes all of the difference.
“What is” is what I have done,
and that
is nothing.
I know I cannot save the world;
I know I cannot change the world;
and I know
I cannot stop trying.
The sleepless nights
I have devoted to problems without number
have brought nothing,
and I am still sleepless.
Powerless –
truly that is what I am,
and while I know this,
I do not believe.
I believe
I could have changed the situation;
I believe
I could have done something.
And I believe I can
though time has passed,
and I know I cannot.
So which is stronger
knowledge or belief?
I do not know.
I cannot measure the strength of either,
and I have yet to be tested.
And if that test comes,
I hope I am ready.
I hope I am strong,
and yet,
I know of the rabbit inside –
Lacking the skills,
Lacking the demeanor.
He fears everything –
the hawk,
the thunder,
the cat,
the footsteps,
the dog,
the rifle.
His claws bring him no comfort;
His teeth have no bite.
Time is no friend;
Circumstance no ally.
The garden is not his domain;
just borrowed space
‘til the farmer rids himself of the pest.
And fear
drives the rabbit;
Timid is he.
And when the test comes
will I be the rabbit;
running from danger,
unwilling to sacrifice myself for my fellow man,
unable to consider I may win the battle –
And that battle,
which would ultimately be won,
would be against fear.
I do not look for the red badge of courage –
For it was won by the rabbit
as he fled.
I do not look for the hero’s welcome –
For he who has had such
has never been a hero.
I look for confirmation
of what I believe of myself.
I look for answers
to the questions of my nature.
I look for that undefinable element
which may be found in every man;
Yet,
It is rarely found in any man.
And in all my searching,
I will never find that which I seek.
A resolution to the crisis,
in which we all find ourselves.
If I have been vague
in my rambling way,
Understand,
I know no different
For the vagueness
of the rambling
is in itself a way
for me to comfort the disquiet in my soul.
A temporary measure.
A self delusion.
A reaching for support from the masses,
A lie to all,
A delusion pulled over the minds of everyone.
I apologize
if I have written,
unknowningly,
the untruth of my life.
But
if you look deeper,
you may find the kernel of truth;
The small part
I have felt to the core
and know what I know and believe –
together, they are the strongest of bonds.
And I am unable to break away.