What Kind of Times Are These -- Adrienne Rich
What Kind of Times Are These -- Adrienne Rich stories
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There’s a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
Source: madducks https://www.reddit.com/r/...

What Kind of Times Are These -- Adrienne Rich

by madducks

There’s a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill

and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows

near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted

who disappeared into those shadows.

I’ve walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don’t be fooled

this isn’t a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,

our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,

its own ways of making people disappear.

I won’t tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods

meeting the unmarked strip of light—*

ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:

I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won’t tell you where it is, so why do I tell you

anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these

to have you listen at all, it’s necessary

to talk about trees.

*At the time of posting I only have internet sources to copy the text from, and I was unable to satisfactorily determine where the first two lines of this strophe are supposed to break.

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