Side Story: Why write political poetry?

With apologies to the 1961 American
musical romantic drama directed by
Robert Wise & Jerome Robbins

A comment on Michael H. Brownstein’s poem “Spring” prompted a question relative to his two political poems, “Welcome to the Masquerade Party” and “Death by Indecision.” The question is: Why do you write political poems? —Moristotle

Reply by Michael H. Brownstein

Why I Write Political Poetry

I was there chopping cotton for one dollar an hour, New Madrid, Missouri.

I was there when the tear gas canisters raged over the ground and sky, napkins with water and McDonald’s emergency breathing facilities, Washington, D.C.

I was there, dogs following at bay, blocking trailheads to the other side of the mountain, Glacier National Park, Montana.

I was there laughing with Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman at my letterman jacket and I did not steal the book, Chicago Seven Conspiracy Trial, Federal Court, Chicago, Illinois.

I was there on the public sidewalks during the great grape boycott, Niles, Illinois.

I was there hand stretched to hand, Hands Across America, Central Iowa.
I was there eveningsong, Maryland hill country.

I was there the night Citizens of America who did not understand what it is to be a Citizen of America threatened castration, Moratorium Against Viet Nam, Beaver, Pennsylvania.

I was there at the raid of Reba Place Commune, Evanston, Illinois.

I was there the dawn missionaries stole all of the brand new shoes from the thrift shop, grand opening, Berea, Kentucky.

I was there the night of the breaking of the window glass, Michigan Ave., Chicago,Illinois.

I was there testifying against the violent takeover of Ash Street, Jefferson City, Missouri.

And we became who we are in order to become what they wanted us to be.

I was with beauty and could not hold on, I saw the hollow of poverty and could not open my eyes, I understood the anger of the drug needle, I knew the scent of scarred tissue, I wandered through cold and heat, I felt the explosion before the completion of the violent, I breathed the shift in value.

I was there and I trespassed.

This poem was published in 2002 in Milk Poetry Journal, under the title, “November Evening Protest, Chicago, 2002.”

I was there, I trespassed, but I did not heal, I did not make a world better because of my presence, I did not help create a country that was more humane, more full of empathy, more full of true greatness even though I was there. Eighteen years after the above poem was published, we still have racism, severe poverty, violence, and a number of negatives that need to be changed into positives.
    Did I do enough? No. Can my writing help make this positive change happen? Yes, I truly hope so.
    It is because of my hopefulness that I write political poetry. All of us must try to be engaged as positive change agents. The last line of the poem above, if written today, would read, “I was there and I helped my country heal.” That is my hope in writing what I write almost two decades later. I would like more than anything for the last line to now be able to read: “We were there and we created a society worthy of our children and our grandchildren.”

Copyright © 2020 by Michael H. Brownstein & Moristotle