My daughter was 6 years old and had just started the 1st grade on 9/11. In the months following 9/11, her dad and I tried to explain what had happened that day, in a way that a 6-year-old could relate to productively. (We don’t have a T.V., so she was never subjected to those videotapes playing over and over and over again of the planes flying into those buildings.)
She ended up making a huge butcher block paper flag that was a juxtaposition of the U.S. and Afghani flags, which she hung in her bedroom well into the 2nd grade.
Our children are more in touch with truth and goodness than the vast majority of adults ever can be. And our poets and other artists who manage to stay in touch with that “childish” part of themselves are treasures.
Even today, when I explain to her what the U.S. is doing in the Middle East and why, she can understand how totally unproductive, destructive, and lacking in imagination to do good in the face of not-so-good the whole fiasco is.
Aaaaaaah, but this is lovely. The bright, happy colors, the children, the simple wisdom of the words.
How can the men in power not recognize the sacredness and beauty of every individual and every blade of grass? Why is it so easy for some of us to understand what’s important and for others to desecrate it?
Thanks for you comment Honestpoet. Good question, why aren’t we able to be sensitive as a collectivity?
I read Majutsu’s last post, I am also more attracted to true stories, but Hafez meeting Whitman, that would be a worthy science-fiction.