Three historical events on my birthday, integrating poetry and prose. For World Lit class.
An Informal Allusion to Several Events Having Occurred On the Thirteenth of February
David W. Lawrence
~ * ~
You find yourself floating around in the nineteenth century, in New York. You spot a massive, quivering throng of people, obviously impoverished, shouting for bread, for sustenance, shouting for coal, for heat. Shouting for the survival of themselves, and for their families. You’ve landed smack in the middle of the Flour Riot of 1837. And you’re starving, freezing, and (quite frankly) terribly pissed off. Welcome to the world. Eat the rich.
It’s been a long day.
Scratch that, it’s been “a long day” as far as you can remember.
Right now it’s only noon.
Ya better run, Mini.
Gobble’s gonna getcha.
Take your shirt if ya turn your back.
You’re only the majority.
Whatcha gonna do?
Maybe you should jump forward in time, a bit. Germany’s nice this time of year. Unless, that is, you find yourself in historical Dresden. In 1945. I’m sure you know what’s coming. A siren announces an air raid, not that it’s news to you. You’ve been watching a formation of planes for well over twenty minutes. Maybe you’ll end up dead. If you’re lucky you won’t live to watch the city burn.
It’s a beast.
A fat, hairy beast.
And it’s crushing you.
Even the drugs can’t hold it down.
Perhaps a nice braided rope could?
Cut it open and watch it bleed.
At least it’s worth a try.
It’s about time you went back to the beginning. And converted. Now you’re a Jew. In the picturesque little town of Burgsordf, Switzerland. And can pronounce it. In 1349. Hopefully you’ve managed to find yourself a phenomenal real estate agent, because you’re being sent out of your homes. The whole country hates you, and you’ve none of your own. And there’s more to come. More to come in Germany, and more to come in America. You’ll spend all your life roaming from one land to the next, seeking your niche.
But it’s all the same.
A kick in the rear from the day you arrive.
And the day you leave.
Maybe one day you’ll find a place of your own.
Better hit the road.
Better keep looking.
It’s a long walk ho-…
That’s the problem, isn’t it?