Day 100- On death, without exaggeration

Dear Mr. President,

I had planned so much to say in this, my 100th letter to you. A beloved Supreme Court Justice is retiring. Sudan is going to the polls. The lights have been out in Gaza for days. The mining accident in West Virginia demands a new look at the way the industry protects its workers. But my heart is heavy for the people of Poland today. The magnitude of their loss is staggering; I don't understand how a country recovers from such a blow. Everything feels a little less safe, our fragility never more apparent than when tragedy strikes those we want to believe are somehow protected from it. Of course, Presidents are not granted a higher degree of immortality just because they are elected to high office. Of course, death does not care about a person's job, or a country's history of struggles. Of course, tragedy like this can unite divided people and urge nations to stand together despite all that they disagree on. It is the only way we make it through.

And so, humbled by this reminder of our own rapidly approaching ends, frightened by the realization that none of us have power over death, we will light candles and put aside our differences and stand together as the people of Poland grieve, and, slowly, move forward. How lost, they must be feeling, right now. It seems especially unfair that this has struck a country that seems to have, throughout history, had to overcome more than its share of tragedy and despair.

I don't pray, Mr. President, but I often, in my conversations with the universe, wish for your safety and security. I will do so, again, this evening. We would be so lost without you, sir.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

On death, without exaggeration

by Wislawa Szymborska

It can't take a joke,

find a star, make a bridge.
It knows nothing about weaving, mining, farming,
building ships, or baking cakes.

In our planning for tomorrow,
it has the final word,
which is always beside the point.

It can't even get the things done
that are part of its trade:
dig a grave,
make a coffin,
clean up after itself.

Preoccupied with killing,
it does the job awkwardly,
without system or skill.
As though each of us were its first kill.

Oh, it has its triumphs,
but look at its countless defeats,
missed blows,
and repeat attempts!

Sometimes it isn't strong enough
to swat a fly from the air.
Many are the caterpillars
that have outcrawled it.

All those bulbs, pods,
tentacles, fins, tracheae,
nuptial plumage, and winter fur
show that it has fallen behind
with its halfhearted work.

Ill will won't help
and even our lending a hand with wars and coups d'etat
is so far not enough.

Hearts beat inside eggs.
Babies' skeletons grow.
Seeds, hard at work, sprout their first tiny pair of leaves
and sometimes even tall trees fall away.

Whoever claims that it's omnipotent
is himself living proof
that it's not.

There's no life
that couldn't be immortal
if only for a moment.

Death
always arrives by that very moment too late.

In vain it tugs at the knob
of the invisible door.
As far as you've come
can't be undone.

Day 21

With its ruling today, the Supreme Court has given a green light to a new stampede of special interest money in our politics. It is a major victory for big oil, Wall Street banks, health insurance companies and the other powerful interests that marshal their power every day in Washington to drown out the voices of everyday Americans. This ruling gives the special interests and their lobbyists even more power in Washington--while undermining the influence of average Americans who make small contributions to support their preferred candidates. That's why I am instructing my Administration to get to work immediately with Congress on this issue. We are going to talk with bipartisan Congressional leaders to develop a forceful response to this decision. The public interest requires nothing less.

Dear Mr. President,

Good luck talking with Congressional leaders about today's Supreme Court decision. I'm in complete agreement with you on this issue, but I have little hope that a congress already so beholden to special interests will be particularly helpful in developing "a forceful response." I think today's ruling would be considerably less effective if large donors were a legitimate political liability for candidates. If being purchased by a company, union or lobby could be more embarrassing and detrimental to a candidate than a sex scandal. I have no problem with politicians who sleep around, unless I'm married to them. I have a considerable problem with politicians who represent special interests and not the voters. Unfortunately, having and affair with a powerful organization will never make quite as many headlines as having an actual affair.

I feel exhausted trying to write this, tonight, but I'm sure it does not begin to rival the exhaustion you feel. Between the arbitrary "one year in office" retrospectives, the election, the supreme court, the economy, and Haiti, I don't know how you haven't collapsed yet. It will get better. It feels like it won't, it feels like we are fighting on too many fronts to prevail, but that must be wrong. At my store, I was chatting with a regular customer and I mentioned you, and she asked me if I still had faith in you. I said that I did, and she cheered out loud. So many of us still have faith in you, sir, don't let our voices get lost in the din. I am struggling to find something meaningful to say, so I will resort to theft. The following is by one of my favorite poets, a Nobel laureate and a woman who survived much darker times.

The Turn of the Century

By Wislawa Szymborska

It was supposed to be better than the others, our 20th century,
But it won't have time to prove it.
Its years are numbered,
its step unsteady,
its breath short.

Already too much has happened
that was not supposed to happen.
What was to come about
has not.

Spring was to be on its way,
and happiness, among other things.

Fear was to leave the mountains and valleys.
The truth was supposed to finish before the lie.

Certain misfortunes
were never to happen again
such as war and hunger and so forth.

These were to be respected:
the defenselessness of the defenseless,
trust and the like.

Whoever wanted to enjoy the world
faces an impossible task.

Stupidity is not funny.
Wisdom isn't jolly.

Hope
Is no longer the same young girl
et cetera. Alas.

God was at last to believe in man:
good and strong,
but good and strong
are still two different people.

How to live--someone asked me this in a letter,
someone I had wanted
to ask that very thing.

Again and as always,
and as seen above
there are no questions more urgent
than the naive ones.

I'll end tonight with a naive question, Mr. President. What can I do?

Respectfully yours,


Kelsey