Plunging people past optimism
Into chasms of chaos
Where deep inside all we can spot is the light
From others, who, like us
Refuse to succumb to the lure
Of me me me me me…
Or maybe, our me is different.
It is a grand
That grants, bestows, recognizes
The beauty within each shade,
Each manner of bending,
It is not nice to merely pretend you care
About something that is other than
Mine and money
Because if all you care about is mine and money,
Then the rest of us,
Have so much to do.
To push back
We had hoped, hadn’t we,
That the world that has always been at war,
Had finally surpassed that expression of self.
But since it is still our sad reality,
We cannot shelter in place—
When wails reach us through walls and
Battles between continue to rage,
But, there, beyond the horizon,
Some of us still perceive what is not, yet,
Except in the hearts of those who beat
From the root to the crown
With tendrils interwoven, strengthened,
Supported by conjecture
That there will be a time
When those joined in solidarity
Can cause to cease arrogance and tyranny
To foster a Resistance
That will become the Expression of
What it means to be a person.
We/Us not supine
Because ‘tis better to Persist
This is the time, too,
To support those of us
For whom life is not a grand plan
But moments of together.
Their burden is not to change the trajectory,
But engage in the simplest acts
Of love of compassion of union.
For isn’t that the point?
To create the space for each of
To love and be loved
Until our final breath.