Poetry Sunday

It seems that the favored emotion of the time is hate, as we've seen in the latest horrific mass murder in Buffalo yesterday. We don't just object to the beliefs of those who worship differently (or not at all), we hate them. We don't just think the political views of those with whom we disagree are wrong or objectionable, we hate them for being Republicans, Democrats, libs, cucks, RINOs, or whatever. There have been many articles and studies on the psychology of hatred (you can read one here), but understanding the blind hatred of many of the people interviewed on our evening news broadcasts is simply beyond my ability to empathize. It seems that some people just enjoy hating ... but not everyone can move on after the hatred as Laure-Anne Bosselaar suggests in today's poem ...

The Pleasures of Hating

by Laure-Anne Bosselaar

I hate Mozart. Hate him with that healthy

pleasure one feels when exasperation has

crescendoed, when lungs, heart, throat,

and voice explode at once: I hate that! —

there's bliss in this, rapture. My shrink

tried to disabuse me, convinced I use Amadeus

as a prop: Think further, your father perhaps?

I won't go back, think of the shrink

with a powdered wig, pinched lips, mole:

a transference, he'd say, a relapse: so be it.

I hate broccoli, chain saws, patchouli, bra—

clasps that draw dents in your back, roadblocks,

men in black kneesocks, sandals and shorts—

I love hating that. Loathe stickers on tomatoes,

jerky, deconstruction, nazis, doilies. I delight

in detesting. And love loving so much after that.

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. Try not to hate so much.

More thoughts later.

Bilbo