Specimen Days: Opening of the Secession War

        Here, Walt Whitman writes about his memory upon hearing news of the start of the American Civil War, or as he referred to it, the Secession War. He talks of the feeling he had after enjoying a seemingly normal day, leaving the opera, walking at night, and overall just chillin. All of a sudden the newsboys start shouting out about the news of war, and Walt buys one of the newspapers being sold. He makes his way to some nearby lamps, where him and a crowd of other people read the news, and they all stand in silence, realizing that shit just got real.
        This entry to me is fascinating. Why? Because I straight up cannot even imagine war on my home country. I can’t imagine living in a country where war on your street is a reality, as it is in some places in the Middle East, South America, and Africa. Even more abstract to me is the idea of war right here in the streets of San Francisco. I’ve just been raised in an era where that has never been a reality in my lifetime, and therefore, it is something that is hard to imagine as real.
        Still, I try my best to empathize.
        Picture you are Walt Whitman. Lover of many things under the sun. Lover of poetry, lover of humanity, and lover of love. You love your country. You’re chillin at the opera, comfortable, and enjoying a dope performance from some great singers. After the opera, your day is wrapping up, and it’s time to head home and pass out. Next thing you know, you realize that your day just begun. Or, at least, everything that happened before in the day will now be considered as of such minor importance compared to what you have just heard that your day might as well have just begun. Your country has just entered a war within itself. Who knows how far the war will extend its reaches to? Will it make it to your doorstep? Who knows. All you do know though is that Americans will be killing Americans. Because that’s what war is: Killing. Which side can kill the most, and which side can take the most losses before giving up and saying “Hey, you guys win. You killed a bunch of our dudes, and we still got some dudes left, but the fact is we’re not gonna be able to kill all your dudes with the dudes we got left, so we’ll admit defeat if you stop killing us.” For a lover of humanity, such as yourself, you are torn by this idea. Not only do you not like the idea of humans killing humans, but these instances of humans killing humans will hit close to home, and they will hit hard. Your mind is racing with thoughts. You go home to lie down on your bed, but you won‘t be sleeping much tonight. You think to yourself about all the good things abut the people in your country, and ask yourself how people can overlook such things and start a war. You are a gifted writer, so eventually, you might write a poem. It might have something to do with humanity, the beauty of the world, and the beauty of life and diversity.

The violence breaks bodies... with the capability to break the heart as well.