I thought maybe I could

I thought maybe I could

Be worthy

Write a poem

Sing a song

Prove something to myself

Proof of life

It would take a miracle

To separate the truth

From the make-believe

Where humanity is concerned

They put hearts in there

To create rhythm

Figure us out

After a couple of beats

Give us a mind

Maybe even a soul

So they say

If you believe

In more than humanistic

Characteristics

Spirituality has a place

In my philosophy

There is space for it

In the frontal lobe

Whatever good it does

If the essence is lost

In the sinew and bone

Too few people see beauty

In broken things

To take time out

Putting them back together

Some seek power

Finding it in knowledge

Even more in ownership

Harness it

Wield it as they would a scythe

With the capacity

To slice off heads

Shorten the odds

Bind the weak to each other

Hold them to account

For no good reason

Other than they can

I guess it is part of the problem

The beauty of a poem

Is in its freedom

And that is an anathema

To the administration

Of the body politic

With its might

Directed solely toward

The projection of rhetoric

As a means of control

Over the direction

Of travel

Walk this way

Not so much that

It is all I can do to wear a hat

To keep out harmful bacteria

But at least I take the time

To read the leaves

And find myself in the right place

At the right time

To catch a moment or two

Of clarity

In a grey world.