I must apologize – I wrote all this half asleep(I’m just that exhausted from work). Around the end I realized this might not be a georgic poem, it doesn’t seem to have much in way of dealing with land or rural imagery… unless the thing you’re caring for is not land but rather yourself. You are your own world, your own land, your own nation- I suppose, and with that supposition this can be a georgic.. or not.
I tried, and now I must sleep. I’m existing on three-four hours of sleep and it shows. Please excuse the typos – there’s probably quite a few…
‘Don’t Care to Care’
There is no romance in suffering,
The inflection upon ourselves or earth-
But we are told it is such a natural thing
To deny ourselves such love from birth.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.
For me, you might say, it won’t change
If I miss once or twice such little things?
Food, sleep, simply ease: why such outrage-
Suffering seems like such a natural thing.
Today I accept I lack what I might need:
Simple decency – for what makes me human
More than the need, the devouring need, a greed.
It might not matter, it will not matter
You think when you attempt a good deed
Knowing that life might as well give nothing
In return, but what if you did succeed?
Could it not be worth it? To see the world
A little brighter, a little lighter, cleaner, at ease.
When was the last time a break was made,
Small sufferings abandoned for a gentle breeze?
Stop suffering, stop daring yourself to fail.
There is no romance, no pride in pain
Gained from being too weak to treat yourself
Gently, like glass, when you know there is no gain.