Compassion for Strong Men – a Democracy of Love…

What if we approached the authoritarians
who have asserted themselves
around the world – with compassion?

Perhaps Putin suffers from Napolean
Complex – the plight of small men
and yearning for the late, great days
when he fought metaphorical rats
in dark corners with the KGB
Was he stunted by the starvation
that took his brother, is that why
he cannot have enough of everything?
He is the Strong Man, bare-chested
on horseback projecting his lost
glory days onto his country and trying
to obliterate a country that was there
when Muscovy was just a swamp
– is that what it will take
to make him feel better?

Has Trump really found a friend
who understands his needs
facilitated his election – twice
or is Putin playing him for a patsy
to suit his own purposes?
Did being born with a silver spoon
in his mouth – paid $20,000 a year
by his father, a millionaire by age eight
set impossible expectations that
made a seedbed for hubris and
underhand shortcuts in the attempt
to make the grade?
In bed with a somewhat Mafia connected Cohn
another avuncular mentor
who gave him a love of litigation
was Trump needing more of a father’s
love than he could possibly find
in reality – is that why he turned
to reality TV and ultimately to presidency?

Post colonially
India seemed like a beacon of
spiritual inclusion, diversity and equality
with its mixture of religions
living side by side
for the most part, peacefully
but Modi promoted Nationalism
but only for Hindus, Moslems
don’t belong – old hatreds
once more resurrected
in the service of party political
power and concomitant
self-aggrandisement.
Was it being born into a background
of Other Backward Class
as his neighbourhood was classified
or serving tea to haughty strangers
on the station platform with his father
that made Modi aspire to climb so high?
What shame did he bear for denying
his marriage to become a pracharak
in the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh
a leg-up the social ladder
for which celibacy was a requirement?
How many people have to die in
religious pogroms to wash away
the scars of humble origin?

And in another place riven
with religious but not racial
differences, one Semitic people
try to delete another
– to take their place
by God given right, they claim
led by a man terrified to
lose it all, the power, the respect
on account of personal corruption
– the prison that awaits him if
he lets go for a moment
of the extreme nationalist narrative
that keeps his country behind him
even though they slide ever downwards
in the eyes of the world

I don’t know about Orban
or President Xi, but
what are the chances that these other
strong men have a weakness within
that drives their story?
We can react with anger, horror
disbelief, to the authoritarian
network that has overtaken
the global village of recent decades
even with all its village quarrels
and sometimes worse
it was better than this divisive
hate filled place we now find
ourselves thrust into
– but where will it get us?
What if we all wrote to
the strong men and spoke
to their hearts with
understanding
of their personal pasts
their fears and disappointments?
Would a million letters each
be enough to salve them
with a democracy of love?

© Andrew Wilson, 2025

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, sanaarizvi in OpenLinkNight, invites us to post a poem of our choice which can also be read out on the OLN live meeting on Saturday…

This poem attempts to look at current events from a slightly different angle…

Querida

You told me your schoolfriends called you little frog
because of your slightly bulging eyes, amiga hermana
and like an amphibian, you emerged from the river
into a new land without meeting those who
would have called you “Wet back”
and sent you whence you came
which is why to me, querido, you are Amfibio
for you brought me the gift of insights
of one who has travelled between borders
you are Alebrije – your travel has given you wings
wings that brought you and your fantastic colours
into my life, querida.

What Divina Providencia brought you to my door querida?
What spirit guided your path, melded our destinies?
You asked for work as a live-in ama de casa
to support your family back in Mexico
and you fulfilled a need I didn’t even know I had
and our relationship became hardly that
of employer and employed

Then came the Orange Chupacabrón
the devil who demands all the attention
consumes all the oxygen and sucks all the blood
– this trickster wants to send your kind
back to Mexico and elsewhere as if you are
una cifra insignificante
he would make you an apachurrado
a hat run over by a truck
but he did not reckon with me

At first you shrugged “ Ni modo…”
but I was encabronada
well and trulypissed-off but also I had Susto – fear
down to my very soul
fear for me, for you,
for your family, for my country
I would not see you become
Un pobre infeliz and so
We sealed off the entrance to the cellar
concealed a new entrance behind the mirror
made a safe refuge for you and others
told the shop where you used to shop for us
not without irony, that you had been swept up
and disappeared by the orange one’s minions
and I arranged for a Mexican run shop
with simpática, to deliver discretely
enough food for whomsoever we hid…

Now we have an underground railway
– not to escape victims of the orange one
but to hold them until safe houses can be found
– we did not need the magic of shamans
to defeat the Chupacabrón
we did not need to pick poisonous Toloache
or summon the Cenzontle to do battle
on our behalf because, after all
we are hermanas bajo la piel

© Andrew Wilson, 2025

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Dora in Poetics, invites us to write a poem using one or more of the poetically interpreted Spanish words in a poem by Sandra Cisneros…

Sandra Cisneros (b. 1954), in Chicago, the only daughter in a family of six brothers. In her stories and poems, she deals with the formation of Chicana identity, exploring the challenges of being caught between Mexican and Anglo-American cultures, facing the misogynist attitudes present in both these cultures, and the constant migration of her family between Mexico and the United States, “always straddling two countries but not belonging to either culture.”
In “I Have No Word in English For,” Cisneros lists twenty-five Spanish words dictionary-like but non-alphabetically, yet seemingly objectively. You soon discover that each definition appropriates a keenly personal shade of meaning.

I Have No Word in English For
By Sandra Cisneros (The New Yorker print edition, September 16, 2024)

Apachurrado. Hat run over by a truck. Heart run over by unrequited love.
Estrenar. To show off what’s new gloriously.
Engentada. People-overdose malaise.
A estas alturas. Superb vista with age.
Encabronada/o. A volatile, combustible rage.
Susto. Fear that spooks the soul away.
Ni modo. Wise acceptance of what fate doles.
Aguante. Miraculous Mexican power to endure conquest, tragedy, politicos.
Ánimo. A joyous zap of fire.
Divina Providencia. Destiny with choices and spiritual interventions.
Nagual. Animal twin assigned at birth.
Amfibio. Person with the gift of global perspective due to living between borders.
Alebrije. Amfibio with wings from geographical travel.
Ombligo. Buried umbilical. Center of the universe.
Toloache. Love concoction made with moonflower and menstrual blood.
Tocaya/o. Name double. Automatic friend.
Amiga hermana. Heart sister closer than kin.
Un pobre infeliz. The walking wounded maimed by land mines of life.
Un inocente. Mind askew since birth; blameless.
Chupacabrón/a. Energy vampire disguised in human form.
Cenzontle. Tranquillity transmitter in bird or human form.
Friolenta/o. Tropical blood. Vulnerable to chills.
Chípil. Melancholia due to an unborn sibling en route.
Desamor. Heart bleeding like xoconostle fruit.
Xoconostle. Must I explain everything for you?

I have used some of Cisneros’ words, sometimes with her poetic meaning and sometimes their literal meanings, given below.

Apachurrado – squashed, down
Encabronada – pissed off (slang) angry
Susto – fright
Ni modo –  “that’s life”, “oh well”, or “what can you do”
Divina Providencia – divine providence
Amfibio – amphibian
Alebrije – a type of Mexican folk art sculpture, typically a brightly colored, fantastical      creature made from paper-mâché or wood
Toloache – literally – the plant with nodding head – Datura, a highly poisonous flower
Amiga hermana –
friend sister
Un pobre infeliz – a poor unfortunate
Chupacabrón – a legendary creature, or cryptid, in the folklore of parts of the Americas. The name comes from the animal’s purported vampirism.
Cenzontle – the mockingbird, a bird known for its ability to mimic the songs of other birds

I also used some other Spanish phrases

Querida – Dear (one)
hermanas bajo la piel – Sisters under the skin
ama de casa – housekeeper
una cifra insignificant – an insignificant person
simpática – sympathetichermanas bajo la piel – Sisters under the skin
simpática – sympathetic

Revolutionary Laughing

I read a book by
a Serbian revolutionary
sharing his experience
of nonviolent action
to bring down dictators
and even military juntas
his greatest tool – laughter
poking fun utterly defeats them
imagine trumpety-Trump
the big, inflated, orange baby
wouldn’t he just hate it…

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Mish in Poetics invites us to write about laughter and since I have little time before work, and as I am getting into the whole Quadrille thing, I have written something in just 44 words.
As a child, one of our favourite records to come on the radio, because it inexorably activated our audio mirror brain cells and had us giddily joining in – I give you “The Laughing Policeman” by Charles Jolly/Penrose…

Oh, and the book – Blueprint for Revolution, by Srdja Popovic