A Statue to the Fragrance of Sin (to the fallacies of cancel-culture players) Glenn W. Harrell 03-21
This poem reflects upon the fallacies of cancel culture–their failures at engaging self-introspection- their refusal to impose mature value-judgments necessary to maintaining personal balance and societal wholeness.
The history I made today may haunt me or praise
And the more I look back slyly trapped in her gaze
Too early to be schooled from a glance or a stare
I misstepped in believing the jaunt or her dare
Might a statue be erected of these my devotions
My misgiving, pointless fortune, ebb and flow with the oceans
Leave them right standing my son for their full meanings are yet known
Be they good or bumbling-bad, all these seeds you have sown
Time-laden history, coddling my friends, resisting foes
Is as diamonds encrusted, suspended with ancient, taut bows
Keep your history before you, this teacher you will find
Is the friend you have yearned for, the poet so kind
What a book being written and such hope in the sky
Days of life tell our story from our birth till we die
And if statue of copper or bronze likeness stands
Let no pride or vain ego shove to make its demands
Simple is our past though wrangled with deceit
We could run were it not for the clay on our feet
And if those much more righteous think our life too obtuse
Perhaps tardy and riddled with scorn and abuse
Proud their metallic-cold hearts, chest thrusting with dare
They too face the lynching mob of cancel beware
For no one soul is lacking the fragrance of sin
Stooped, sullen, prison-prickled malady, all people sick within
O ye without sin, gather your stones, crush the sinner forthright
You may cast though your conscience be calloused to the light
Tis your self you have canceled, your own history defaced
Toppled self-righteous statuesque, foolish, blinded, erased
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