The preface to the Politics section of Totems sets the tone for the following poetry by ascertaining the close relationship between poetry and politics. The author explains the interconnectedness of poetry and politics, as each entity inherently supports and inspires the other. Though this association has been a sore subject for poets and academia alike, I personally find such a conclusion to be intuitive as much of the poetry that I read is political in nature. Beat poetry is easily my favorite genre of poetry, and much of the writing is concerned with the social and political climate of the writers’ era. It was precisely that poetry which preceded and birthed the massive social and political uprising in America during the 1960’s. Of all writing forms, poetry in particular is capable of grabbing hold of its readers, shaking them out of their submission, and forcing them instead into overt action. I found the poetry in this section to be highly moving and laden with emotion, with each piece tantalizing and manipulating my thoughts into new conformations. Lorna Dee Cervantes’ piece Poem for the Young White Man Who Asked Me How I, an Intelligent, Well-Read Person, Could Believe in the War Between Races does a particularly fine job of arguing for the inseparable nature of poetry and politics.

The poem begins with the narrator creating an idealistic land that was once plagued by war and oppression. In this recovered land the

“people write poems about love,

full of nothing but contented childlike syllables.

Everyone reads Russian short stories and weeps.

There are no boundaries.

There is no hunger, no

complicated famine or greed”.

Whether the narrator creates this land as a contrast to her reality or as a representation of how the “outside” world views the land is a debatable question. Based on the title for the poem, it is reasonable to assume that the narrator is sarcastically portraying her native land as the Young White Man, as well as his common people, perceives it.

The narrator continues the poem by rhetorically asking, “Do you think I can believe in a war between races?” In the utopian land that the narrator previously described, an unsuspecting reader would answer no. The narrator however, answers in a different manner by responding “I can deny it. I can forget about it when I’m safe”. This response forms a dramatic tone change in the poem, as the narrator only theorizes the ways that she could manage a war between races without ever asserting her belief in the war. The choice to avoid a straightforward answer is an interesting way to lead the reader to assume the answer, as the narrator presents the possibilities of not denying the war or of remembering the war, thus supporting its existence. In the following stanzas the idealistic world is shattered as the narrator describes the true reality in which she exists.

“I believe in revolution

because everywhere the crosses are burning,

sharp-shooting goose-steppers round every corner,

there are snipers in the schools…

(I know you don’t believe this.

You think this is nothing

but faddish exaggeration. But they

are not shooting at you.)”

This particular deconstruction of the utopia juxtaposes the harsh physical realities of war with the equally harsh and bitter realities of racism. The narrator explains how

“The bullets are discrete and designed to kill slowly.

They are aiming at my children.

These are facts.

Let me show you my wounds: my stumbling mind, my

“excuse me” tongue, and this

nagging preoccupation

with the feeling of not being good enough.”

The narrator proceeds by describing the “real enemy” that leads her to feel alienated in her land. She explains that she is a poet, who yearns to write the mindless poetry of “joy and the blessings of human understanding”, but who cannot dissociate from her deep-seated feelings of moral, political, and social outrage. She is a poet because she must be. Because without poetry, there is no true medium for political outcry. No medium in which emotion & logic, structure & fluidity, gaiety & vehemence can all simultaneously find expression. The narrator realizes this to an almost begrudged extent, as she finally answers,

“I do not believe in the war between races.

but in this country

there is war.”