Strange to be in Washington, DC
four months after an insurrection.
When to me, Democracy
is in so much jeopardy.
Strange to watch people, who seem worry free,
walk their dogs,
picnic in the park, frequent cafés,
ride bikes, scooters.
As if the government were not in the same town
making consequential decisions day to day.
Strange to see monuments, museums,
some open with Covid restrictions,
others closed, while gardens with roses,
petunias, azaleas bloom wildly, alive and well.
Even squirrels, rats play to the tune
of birds in concert with motorcycles, trucks, cars.
Strange to be a part of Sunday’s rhythm.
The quiet awakening.
Slower pace till afternoon.
Hurried steps of residents, visitors
marching down streets
to protest in Lafayette Square.
Finally, late-night yawns as people
disappear into vehicles, high-rises.
Strange to note frantic building of living spaces,
parking lots, bistros.
As though in preparation to host the world.
Strange that this year, too,
aside from mobs in January and partial normalcy now,
is the year of the cicada:
joyful, lusty, fertile,
musical to beat the band.
Will bulldozers, cement mixers, cranes
seal their exit doors?
Destroy their habitats?
Suspend their lifecycle festivities?
Deal a blow to an insect race that merely mates and dies?
That celebrates reproduction, tympani?
Strange to be in Washington, DC
four months after an insurrection.
It turns my thoughts to liberty,
inalienable rights, dignity.
QAnon’s alternative reality.
Fragility of democracy.
And then to cicadas:
simple sensuality.
Lynn Benjamin
May 23, 2021
Washington, DC
