Poem: Comfort in the Familiar


Comfort in the Familiar (2009)

The tips of her fingers brushed the spines of her books
standing guard upon sturdy shelving encircling the room.
The iron bed was spread with Battenberg lace
and the requisite matching dust ruffle.

Hearing rumbling outside her door,
she took a peek down the long hallway.
Surely something exciting must be happening,
as there was brightness where once darkness.

With hurried steps, she went to the shelf
opened the lid to the oak box holding the key.
Growing impatient, she clumsily unlocked
the shackle attached to her ankle.

Ignoring the disapproving stares of her people,
she tip-toed into the hallway.
Her fingers calmed her trembling lips as
gilded frames gave way to ebony and glass.

Her pounding heart deafened her ears,
she reached the end, or maybe the beginning.
She found her room decked out in modern design–
it was both shocking and intriguing.

Image By Anthony Zierhut

Shielding her eyes,
she raced back,
slammed the door shut,
clamped on the shackle,
returned the key,
before collapsing into the overstuffed chair.

© Liza Bennett
All Rights Reserved

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Is Ignorance Bliss?


When I first saw the title of this article, my first reaction what that “Yes, sometimes it is bliss.”  The writer asking the question in a Psychology Today article had seen this bumper sticker and at first agreed, then started thinking more about it.

In my younger years, I felt the need to know everything about anything.  With the advent of the internet, news and information came at us in droves and I, like most, couldn’t get enough of it.  I would spend hours trolling around this new resource, drawn in by its allure.

Here we are 15 years later with information filling our every waking moment–we barely have time to sit still and just think.  I can’t help but wonder if this has contributed to the harried, stressed-out nature of people today.  Do we really need to know about every murder, every case of child abuse, starvation, or each minute of the rollercoaster we call Wall Street?

Maybe ignorance is bliss.