A Mahogany bar, a brass rail for your feet. Loud music, basketball, and glasses that clink. Somebody stares; somebody swears -- but it's our place to go, and we're glad that it's there.
10:15
The bartenders put all the televisions on the same channel, and turned the music off. The room went silent, and everyone listened to him speak. To my way of thinking, he's always spoken just a little too slowly for me to trust. But being this early in the game, it was a safe bet to assume that he really wasn't going to say all that much anyway.
Unsure eyes all around me, comprehending in silence, hoping for a sign. Couples hugged, companions nodded. He spoke of dedication, determination, and of protection. He spoke very slowly. The poet next to me scribbled with abandon, putting anger to words. And I thought for a moment that perhaps I wasn't alone in this feeling of worry.
But then, at the end of the sentence, the puppet paused to take a breath and the bartender in front of me took her hand away from her mouth, and said "Amen."
He spoke minutes more, and then thanked us for our time. And then,
in the bar
in the dark
miles away,
safe from harm
They cheered.
Maybe I'm naive. Maybe I'm still too young. Maybe I just don't know as much as I think that I do. But it feels wrong. It hurts deep inside. Threats must be repelled, and it seems snarling dogs must always fight. But the cheering. The lack of understanding. The accepting... the celebrating of things so real, so irreversible, so threatening...
I dialed the phone, and we said what we could. Generals and presidents will do us no good.
Tonight we man the bearna bhaoil
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal
'mid cannons roar and rifles peal,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
10:15
The bartenders put all the televisions on the same channel, and turned the music off. The room went silent, and everyone listened to him speak. To my way of thinking, he's always spoken just a little too slowly for me to trust. But being this early in the game, it was a safe bet to assume that he really wasn't going to say all that much anyway.
Unsure eyes all around me, comprehending in silence, hoping for a sign. Couples hugged, companions nodded. He spoke of dedication, determination, and of protection. He spoke very slowly. The poet next to me scribbled with abandon, putting anger to words. And I thought for a moment that perhaps I wasn't alone in this feeling of worry.
But then, at the end of the sentence, the puppet paused to take a breath and the bartender in front of me took her hand away from her mouth, and said "Amen."
He spoke minutes more, and then thanked us for our time. And then,
in the bar
in the dark
miles away,
safe from harm
Maybe I'm naive. Maybe I'm still too young. Maybe I just don't know as much as I think that I do. But it feels wrong. It hurts deep inside. Threats must be repelled, and it seems snarling dogs must always fight. But the cheering. The lack of understanding. The accepting... the celebrating of things so real, so irreversible, so threatening...
I dialed the phone, and we said what we could. Generals and presidents will do us no good.
Tonight we man the bearna bhaoil
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal
'mid cannons roar and rifles peal,
We'll chant a soldier's song.