Unknown's avatar

Letter to my Senator

Every month I try to write a letter to Pennsylvania Senators Dave McCormick and John Fetterman. I need to express to them my dissatisfaction with the current state of the United States. I don’t participate much in politics; nor do I consider myself an activist. But, I am concerned about social justice, I vote in every election, I pay attention to reputable news organizations, to what politicians are doing and how their actions affect the social fabric of the nation, the welfare of Americans, the economy, and the culture. Because I don’t like crowds, I don’t often go to protests or rallies, though I did attend the two “No Kings” events in Philadelphia in June and in October. I don’t like to knock on doors. I don’t like to make phone calls. I think much of this aversion to that kind of grassroots activism goes back to when I was a teenager working for my father, who devoted his life to local politics. I was often with him at Democratic Headquarters in center city, especially right before any election he was involved in. I went with him to canvass neighborhoods, worked with the volunteers on mailings, and made cold calls from the mountainous lists of voters at headquarters. I hated the phone calls most of all. I also hated what I saw and heard behind the scenes, the trading of favors, the quid pro quo, the sometimes vicious machinations of politics, even while I realized that getting anything done requires negotiation and compromise. I often wonder what Buddy Pitts (my father) would think if he was alive today. Everyone was his “friend” it seemed when we’d be at political functions or fund-raisers, though I am sure he had enemies. He was a Republican when Nixon ran against Kennedy. He switched to the “D” side at some point. His politics had less to do with ideology and more to do with personality and the particular group of people who were in power at any given time.

But, it’s 2025 and I am living through what many call unprecedented times in the U.S. I have to express my point of view to the people in power, so I try to write a letter once a month. This month’s letter to Senator Dave McCormick is below. I address the senators directly, even though I know they are not, themselves, likely to read the letters they receive. Some staffer might read it and send a response; or maybe they just have stock responses? Who knows? I just have to do something.

Unknown's avatar

Feeling Helpless

I am feeling helpless. Like many others I am frightened by the actions of the White House after only 1 month of this administration. I am trying to figure out what I can do. Today, I also learned that a good friend of mine who suffered a traumatic brain injury a few months ago will likely pass away within the next day or so. Today, I can only try to be intentional with everything I do. Feeling the sadness, feeling helpless and sharing thoughts and feelings in writing.

This weekend I was enrolled in the online offering of a Haiku & Poetry program with Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico. On the panel were Roshi Joan Halifax, Sensei Kaz Tanahashi, Jimmy Santiago Baca, Jane Hirshfield, and Ian Boyden. While I didn’t get to participate directly, it was really a wonderful program; I plan to revisit the recordings of the sessions that I missed. Panelists mentioned two Chinese poets I was unfamiliar with. Wang Wei and Du Fu lived in China during a period of upheaval, the An Lushan rebellion (755–759) the time of the Tang Dynasty.

When I cannot think of anything to say or to write myself because overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness or sadness or anger or frustration, I write out poems of others. I will be writing out two poems today and share them here.

Spring Prospect

The nation [is] shattered, though mountains and rivers remain.
The city in spring, grass and trees have grown deep.
Feeling the time, even flowers draw tears.
Resenting separation, even birds strain the heart.
Beacon fires unstoppable through the third month,
A letter from home [is] worth ten thousand in gold.
Hairs whitened, fewer for the scratching;
Desires upset no longer hold a hairpin up.

Du Fu

And another written closer to the time period we are in currently.

Let Them Not Say

Let them not say: we did not see it.
We saw.

Let them not say: we did not hear it.
We heard.

Let them not say: they did not taste it.
We ate, we trembled.

Let them not say: it was not spoken, not written.
We spoke,
we witnessed with voices and hands.

Let them not say: they did nothing.
We did not-enough.

Let them say, as they must say something:

A kerosene beauty.
It burned.

Let them say we warmed ourselves by it,
read by its light, praised,
and it burned.

Jane Hirshfield