Hannah Arendt was right 

Believe it or not 

Two grizzly bears are talking 

with full voluptuous vocabularies 

walking in flying snow 

on the northernmost rim of the Yukon

talking about the nature of evil 

and how they don’t believe in it. 

“Hell, it doesn’t even apply to us, we just get hungry.”

Then, reminded, they sit down on a snowy branch

and eat berries. 

“They throw that word around a lot 

down there in those countries and cities. 

It makes it easier, I guess, but I don’t buy it. 

There was a woman ... there was 

a jewish german philosopher woman - I like her! - 

who didn’t buy it either

calling people evil and cartoon monsters, 

and she was right there in 

the middle of all those Nazis!

How do you like that?”

The other bear gnaws some bark off

a branch, chews it a little, and says: 

“So you’re the bear that knows about

jewish german philosophers?”

“Yes, in fact, I am that bear. 

And she wrote in her book that evil is banal. 

Well, that was profound, though some thought

she was being a little casual about it all. 

Do you know what I think?” 

The other bear, mouth full of bark,

nods at him to say.

“Conformity is the problem, not evil. 

Automatically joining in, signing up 

without the powerful private moment of pause,

to chew it with your own jaws

touch it with your own paws

square it with your own laws. 

You get me?”

“Yes, I believe I get you,” says the other bear,

swallowing chewed bark and sticks. 

“What would you do if somebody like Hitler 

- and there’s always somebody like Hitler - 

walked up to you and said: 'Come on!  

Come with us, we’re going to kill jews 

because I want to, and I want us to, and 

I want you to,' what would you say?”

“I’d say: Are you nuts? Are you drunk?

Are you a psychotic jerk? Are you mean, stupid? 

Are you kidding? No, I'd say, beat it, get lost, fuck off! 

Something like that. Get some psychotherapy, maybe.”  

“Would you join his army, or his party, or

go to the meeting? 

“Doubt it,” says the other bear, “but I’m a non-

conformist, like you.” 

“There you go.” 

The wind whistles through the tall pines

blowing out of the golden glowing sunset 

to the west; the bears shake snow off their coats, 

beginning to think of shelter 

for the cold night coming. 

They stand up together 

and walk east into deeper forest

looking behind them,

their eyes gleam yellow and brown 

in the day’s last sunlight. 

Ahead, they see their path splitting 

off into the trees. 

“Uh oh, the road is diverging in the woods ahead.” 

“So you’re also the bear that knows poetry?”

“Well, hell - it is sort of frosty around here.” 

“See you tomorrow, old friend.” 

The bears walk slowly into the trees

waving goodnight to each other,

and disappear in the dark and 

the sound of the wind;

into sleep and 

peacefulness.