I feel this pull to make from clay what I can’t
To mangle the unanswerable in the meat of my hands
To offer as digestible all the shrapnel and sand
Like I’m qualified to even be what I am
I feel this pull to fill up negative space
To populate the blackness with platitudes & cliches
“it’s all so complicated; your heart, it just breaks”
Saying nothing like it’s something to say
My friend says, “god is in the numbers
There’s mercy in math
It’s reality-adherent”
I’m working with that
When I get buried in opinion
Caught in narrative frames
To simplify the process
Find my answer that way
It clarifies & starts to take shape
For instance: 51 is greater than 1
And the gap will only widen every day this drags on
And starvation’s still a war crime no matter who you come from
And journalists and children didn’t earn being bombed
And I feel this pull to say there’s only one tribe
Clusters on a seesaw
And for the disenfranchised
You identify imbalance
And throw your weight on their side
What else is there, in the cold, even light
Of every day I’m always dreading?
I would much sooner hide
Surround myself with blinders
Live my comfortable life
Until some Irish understanding
In my cellular soul
Sees the brutal subjugation
And it won’t let me go
I’m not an expert
But I know what I know
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
