The Innocence of Events: Why Nothing Is Personal and Everything Is Power
A poem on the innocence of events and how judgment creates pain. A reflection on meaning, memory, and the small interval where freedom lives. The event is innocent. The judgment is ours. Some things touch us more deeply than they should — not because the event carries harm, but because something older inside us rises to meet it. This poem looks at that hidden place where meaning is made, where fear and memory speak first, and where clarity waits, quietly, if we allow it to enter. The Innocence of Events The stone does not know it has struck you. The word, once spoken, forgets itself immediately, becomes air, becomes nothing, moves on toward other mouths, other silences. Only you remain in the room where the meaning was assembled, brick by brick, out of old winters, out of a childhood you no longer visit but which visits you, unannounced, whenever a door slams somewhere far away. I have seen the empires rise and answer for their ruins. I have seen a man weep over a single sentence while...
