What can poetry do for a revolution?

Sunday Post

Dear Bruce,
Thank you for yesterday’s poetry reading session and for the opportunity to meet Rubén Medina

Dear and cherished Medina,
I would like to continue our discussion from yesterday here, to speak a bit more clearly and explicitly.
Someone asked you, 'What can poetry do for a revolution?'
As I mentioned, we are not obligated to stick with old definitions.
We live in the 21st century, and our lives are different from those of people in the 18th, 19th, 20th, and even the early 21st century. Our approach to life should naturally be different too.
In my view, neither communist texts nor religious books can cure our pain.
Although it appears that we’ve moved beyond tribal systems and now live in modern times, we need our own laws and definitions.
I think we need to redefine many words.
There was a time when a revolutionary was someone who fought for social justice and equality. They would gather in small and large cells to complete their mission. Many would genuinely sacrifice their lives to establish a system that eventually turned to oppression to secure its power.
For old revolutionaries, killing in the name of justice was not seen as a crime.
The revolutionaries who came to power justified their violence, claiming they were establishing a proletarian revolution or enforcing justice.
Religious texts also have their justifications for the killing of people.
Even now, many justify the killing of innocent people.
Our definition of a revolution should not be the same as Che Guevara’s, Stalin’s, or Lenin’s.
All ideologies and religions have been tested.
Now it’s our turn to have a real, not imaginary, definition of a revolutionary. If a revolutionary is against tyranny and oppression, they should not become a tyrant themselves.

I believe that, in these turbulent and bloody times, the very fact that we gather together and read poetry is a real revolution in itself.
By not engaging in arresting, killing, torturing, or confiscating people’s belongings, by not oppressing anyone, by talking to each other, by not baring our teeth at each other, by not promising divine or other rewards, by not using others as tools for our own power,
All of this is a revolutionary act.
To me, being a revolutionary means not being bloodthirsty, not making exceptions, not acting tribally. It means not killing people and siding with life.
I think we should replace all these poetry sessions with those old political and military cells. These are sessions that do not lead to killing but instead celebrate life, hope, and joy.
Thank you for your words yesterday, Medina,
And for the poems you shared