That Band

 That Band

So, here’s my secret:

after the fall of that band

I could not consume

art for months (at a point,

I wondered if I ever would

be able to again).

I moved around

my apartment to silence,

all I watched on TV

were cooking shows or the nightly news.

I only read non-fiction essays and articles

or news stories.

 

Slowly, I let art

back into my life,

but not artists.

 

Even now, three-quarters of a year

later, I can barely stand to listen to

artists talk about their art.

Not on radio, TV, nor podcasts.

I won’t read interviews of artists.

 

I don’t want to hear it,

I want to push artists away;

consume their art, but from

a distance.

At this point, I still have to separate

the art

from the artist.

 

(The betrayal still cuts

deep. And I was just a supporter.)

 

I know it’s not fair

to the good, the decent,

the caring artists.

But I think my heart

is still hardened, caged in, as protected

as I can make it,

at this point.

 

Maybe someday

I will settle

and be able to let

artists in again.

*****