Neil Hester

All poems © Neil Hester unless otherwritten

Location: North Carolina, United States

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Smallness of a Snow Globe

In light of one of the lectures in my Emotion class, a recent ethics post, and the resulting conversation about armchair liberalism, I wrote this, partly to paraphrase my professor in the first couple lines, and partly to poke a little fun at myself.


Smallness of a Snow Globe

To even worry of happiness is a luxury
of the privileged.
                           —And so we are condemned,
vaulted by our stars, to a better life
that flutters along, an absurdity
of the meaningful. Don’t talk—
you’ll only feel guilty, for what strife
draws your ideals into the real
grit that defines the thing, and stains
the feet of those who carry the thing?

Nothing. Move then! lest you remain
in your pretty globe, and inward linger—
choking on the snow and stardust makes you,
until the Thing that binds us breaks you.


Hooray for modern sonnets!

Anyhow, nothing else to say- take care 'til next,