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DAMN THE PROOF by Tracie Nichols

One morning a few weeks ago everything I read felt like an assault to me...

There were thoughtless, strident voices shouting narrow-minded opinions, condemning dissenting voices, and venting outrage. Women had forgotten their place. Black people were claiming their lives mattered. Impoverished people thinking they should have a way out of poverty. People claiming this planet was more than a resource to be plundered. 

It felt like the “isms” were winning by their sheer volume, and I felt my optimism and compassion faltering. So, I let the words spill out...

Damn the Proof 
by Tracie Nichols

i'm not a shouter
or a marcher
more
gentle anarchist
motherly revolutionary

despite my 
steadfastness
there are days I
think the
"-isms" are winning

days I
wake up
to find
someone 
has filled 
my pericardium with
molten lead
and encased all
but my eyes 
in concrete

"the better to 
feel helpless, my dear"

does it matter that
for nearly 40 years
i've assaulted 
barricaded minds
with 
kindness?

flung compassion
two-fisted
over their walls?

launched shockwaves
of conditionless 
love?

does it matter?

is there proof
ragelessness 
is working?

is proof the point?

on days when
"-isms" are snarling
tearing at the throat
of my kindness
sometimes
I feel Boudicca-like

on days when 
I fantasize
razing the city 
and 
massacring
minds that
hate

on days when
my kindness
flinches
in the face
of incoherent
pain

on those days
on those days
on those days
when I return a smile
anyway

when I reach out 
with love
anyway

when I listen
deeply,
nonjugementally
anyway

on those days
I don’t give a 
damn about
proof

on those days
I simply know
that my heart
will always
speak louder
than my hate.

(Find more of Tracie's poetry in our new book! Just click here

Tracie Nichols has written poetry since she was 11 years old. While most of her early works are gone (this is probably a good thing) she continues to scribble poems at odd hours about everything from the state of her soul to the sounds of her kitchen. In truth, though, her poetic heart belongs to the deep green places of our wildly, fiercely, sacred, earth. When she isn’t making poetry with words she’s listening to the whispers of the green world, making alchemy with plants and stones and moonlight wildness. Tracie blogs, shares resources and generally nurtures at her website here. Connect with her also on Twitter or Facebook. 



~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

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