Although I did not intend to revisit any more of her pervious poems, I felt the need to examine her good fight poem at least once more before I moved on, since it seems to be directed in my direction – although I might be wrong. At least, it made me cringe in a similar way as her poems did last summer, making me feel as if I am a bug under a magnifying glass with the heat of the sun focused directly on me – although at times during last summer, she seemed to think she went too far and posted poems of pity such as quick sand and compassion.
There is some of that in this poem, as if she is taking a half step back from her previous total outrage, becoming more reflective.
This is not to say that she is any less angry from the poem in which she accused me of playing games, and in which she refused to fall for the seductions of my smooth words, and this poem seems to reflect that distrust of my poetry as the earlier poem did, and makes the distinction between what she believes is true and what is said to be true – and extremely legitimate argument since a lot of what I’ve posted had nothing to do with her; she simply may have read meaning into them that wasn’t there.
It is her “reasonable” tone rather than content that suggests a rethinking from her previous poem, and a backing off slightly, less a gesture of mercy to me than a need for her not to seem unreasonable.
On the other hand, this poem may not be directed at me at all, but a general observation – perhaps reflecting the turmoil she has to deal with in town hall where she works.
Still, I get the feeling it is about the war or words she perceives we are engaged in, and the concept of what it means to be good to her, a state of being that cannot be argued.
Good fight often means righteous in one sense, though she argues no fight is good when it is being waged, when it shouldn’t be a fight at all.
But then she becomes realistic saying we should not waste our lives on “should bes or get sucked up in arguing over what is right, when right is right and there is no arguing that point.
This is in sharp contrast to an earlier poem in which she said right and wrong, or good and bad are just words.
In this poem, she then asks what is right?
I should agree although in actuality, truth and right are relative, easily redefined depending on your point of view.
A good fight for a bad cause is still bad. Even the Nazis thought they were fighting for a noble cause.
Then, she talks about the sliding scale, more or less reflecting this relative concept, the inability at what point to when something is right or true, or when you have a victory.
Even defeat is relative – just a word – and one of those things that divide people.
So, people fight for the right to be good in a world where right is spoken into existence.
Here she makes the distinction between “Good” and “right” and that good is not the same thing as right – right and wrong are created, manufactured, while good is a state of being.
In some ways, she appears to be saying that she can be wrong, but still be good or vice versa – and while good happens it is often argued out of existence by who is right or who is wrong.
Again, the poem isn’t quite an olive branch, but it is a relief in that it seems less bitter than some of the other poems she posted recently, less hostile, even if she comes no closer to making peace.
In all this is the presumption that we have been conversing, when only occasionally do I get to speak directly to anything she posts. She may well believe I am inconsistent in that regard, when I’ve made no effort to be consistent.
I have no clue as to what any of this actually means, only theories, most of which are likely mistaken or flat out inaccurate.
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