yes, you

While musing over the fourth book of the Words of the Seasons series (while I should be working on the third releasing first this summer) I can sit and reflect and be grateful for the ability to still complain. To still have time to complain, to sit, to muse, to wonder, to reflect, to decide to change, to have the opportunity to change, to decide not to change, to be an asshole if I wanted to, or to keep “livin’ the dream” in the most American way. I am only lacking the white picket fence in my yard after all.

The End-etic is either a short piece or a soon-to-be long piece. What I share here is the first raw draft of my word vomit onto the keyboard displayed so simply across a white screen. I get to do so without worry of a bomb landing on my house. Without worry that I will have to evacuate my home town. I mean I have the normal white blissed fears of my children getting gunned down in school, or wrecking their car someday being dumb, or working till they are old and grey just to pay off a debt of education sooooo fine. Red, white, and blue “fine”.

Anyway. It’s End-etic. Not necessarily a poetic ending. Just a nice big red flag above the call for mental health, for babies in war killing for reasons they don’t know, for you, for me, and the ironic touch that this is what we consider HUMANITY. It is the End-etic, tail end of the pandemic (oh look, I the poet left a clever rhyme). I plan to blog more as I update this piece. Don’t fall too in love with it, or hate it too much as I imagine, like viral state we humans live in, it is in its newbie format, searching for its niche, its calling, its point-etic. It will evolve and change with the algorithm of the year. May be a completely different piece by the time publication comes around (maybe December).

But I am privileged to be able to sit in my comfy spot on the couch and share it with you. I hope you check in now and then for its evolution. I wish everyone human on this planet could feel that same comfort, but this is the human race, and it’s always at war isn’t it? How fucking grateful I should be that the war I live in is only in my head, only on paper, only on a screen…

“This healing and recovery and bettering yourself scheme

Only works if you know how to do it

Winging-it is the plan of attack

Make sure you’re trending while you do it

I don’t know about you but it seems

Everyone is broken or breaking someone else

This healing oneself is a nice tale they sold me

They told me

They used it to hold me still

Used it well now I take a white pill

This healing and recovery and bettering yourself bullshit

Only works well if you can see it’s hashtag and tag it

Guess work and research stops at viral suggestions

I don’t know about you but I thought we knew better

We do know better

We just don’t do better

I don’t know what the point was

The thought lasted longer than the seven second

Clip on Tik Tok

Lost your attention

After stanza one

Did you heal yourself before you got to the End

Will we heal the Earth before her End

What of ourselves in humanities End

Can you heal yourself before your End”

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Usually this is where I put my “donate a buck or two to my coffee fund” bubble but please send your buck or two or more if you can to an organization that supports Ukraine at this time.

Published by elizabethridge

A poet and author from Iowa. Just trying to make feelings into words and make it mean something. Or nothing. You read and decide

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