I want to understand
Arendt's banality of evil,
though my husband cannot,
for the life of him,
comprehend why.
I lay each night in bed,
fingers interlocked
with yours-
close enough to feel your breath
on my face,
and all the while,
with my eyes squeezed shut,
I (impossibly) try to hold
these two opposing truths
at once.
My nightmares
act as part horror show,
part container
for the other reality
of what sheer viciousness
man can do to man
(and woman and child).
Vivid pictures,
exquisite detail
of the graphic violence
motivated by the Big Three
of humanity's shadow:
hatred, greed
and ignorance.
Waking up in a panic.
Heart racing, disoriented,
drenched in sweat
that drips down the middle
of my back.
I am gripped by terror-
feeling his tight
fist clenched around my
pounding heart.
I wince-
my tense body
shaking in speechless disgust.
I cry, always
without a single
tear.
This evil
that I stare down
wakes me up
every time.
I suppose,
it's supposed to.
-Me
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