William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Cracks in the Sidewalk

In light of our ancient, wild heritage, it’s interesting that we imprison ourselves in flat, stale, climate-controlled boxes filled with every convenience, where we grow sicker and weaker with each passing year. We’d be better off climbing on the counter than cleaning it, swinging from the chandelier, and chattering from atop the nightstand and dining table. Such precision. Such order. Such safety. Such security. Teams of professionals trimming our bushes and manicuring our lawns, experts rushing in to replace our thermostats and tinker with our various devices. Fertilization, optimization, sterilization, all in a state of rank, linear predictability. But look at the view! Isn’t it breath-taking? Isn’t it grand? You can see the whole city from here, the twinkling lights, each representing a private drama, one more late-night TV show, a mindless scroll through social media, a gut-ache, a mind-ache, a heart-ache, the sad gasp of a fresh bag of chips. And it’s all so . . . easy.

I’m smiling, of course. Civilization is wonderful, even if we avoid our neighbors and don’t know their names, and even if all of this having and wanting and owning and getting destroys the environment and creates hunger, poverty, and war.

Cracks in the sidewalk — henbit and shepherd’s purse — flowers lighting the way.


[ 1394 ]

Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

7 replies

  1. A price that no one has the authority to pay. Can one compensate for suffering? Sorry, no can do.

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  2. It’s All Too Beautiful ~ . ~

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  3. Das ist das Los des Menschen – und glaub mir, in Deutschland ist dies besonders verrückt. Vorgegebene Zeiten zu allem bauen Druck auf, schüren Stress, machen Menschen letztendlich krank. Es ist ein Hamsterrad, aus dem es kein Entkommen gibt. Und doch springen wir oft daraus ab, gönnen uns das Ringsum, sehen die Welt mit anderen Augen und saugen alles in uns auf.
    Ich bin mal vom Schreibtisch geflüchtet, bin gelaufen, als wäre der Teufel hinter mir her. Dann hörte ich eine Feldlerche. Ich habe ihren Gesang noch heute im Ohr…..
    Dir einen guten Wochenbeginn, lieber William…

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