Listen to Jim: http://jimreedbooks.com/mp3/coneofreticencemeets.mp3
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This afternoon, temporarily forced outside my zone of comfort (my Cone of Reticence), I spent two hours absorbing the creative poetry and energy of a roomful of high school students.
The teenagers had much to be passionate about—they each wrote and performed a three-minute poem inspired by Birmingham’s violent and bitter civil rights struggles of 1963 A.D., just half a century ago. They weren’t there when the conflicts occurred, but their empathy for the citizens who endured that era was immense. Loud and boisterous exclamations laced with whispers and sobs framed the afternoon, and nobody—nobody—left unmoved.
Their teachers can hardly be praised or compensated enough for the effort that continues to pour into these special classrooms, obviously classrooms where students are free to safely express themselves on the most disturbing of subjects.
I felt honored to be there, and I hope the librarians and teachers and family and friends who spent the afternoon with me felt this specific honor, too.
There are sanctuaries such as this everywhere in our land…sanctuaries where freedom of expression can thrive uncriticized, away from the prying eyes of those who are disturbed when emotional and unorderly feelings are verbalized. Small groups of people who literally believe in freedom and are unthreatened by its expression are our true heroes.
As Johann Lavater said, “Each particle of matter is an immensity; each leaf a world; each insect an inexplicable compendium.”
We are all immensities.
So be it. When the world twirls about another and another time, a hundred more poets will be born, another myriad will be forgotten. At least those of us who are aware that we are alive will be humbled, thus wizened, by the thought that there’s always another poet on the way to replace the one who is exiting. We just have to embrace and enjoy the poetic presence in our lives, in order to diffuse the furies and nurture the kindly meek
(c) 2013 A.D. by Jim Reed