Wednesday
What does it mean to have a Russian asset as president, if the FBI’s suspicions (as reported by the New York Times) turn out to be correct. Perhaps William Blake’s poem “The Sick Rose” captures the situation.
In that instance, the Rose would be the American republic, which is sick despite its high ideals and its constitutional system of checks and balances.
O Rose, thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Something is eating away at America’s rose and Trump is the form that the worm has taken. Blake calls for us to look past immediate causes and look for deeper explanations. While I’m not sure what they are, the poet provides us a framework for exploration.
