Every Night

and I [still] listen to her every night
the Life we shared
for all those years
shines dimmer or bright
but is always right there
picking pieces of the past
is like raising lead weights up a mast
a sane sorrow wouldn’t do that
but the older I get
the more beauty and respect
I have for every breathe
what if every “where”
leads to right “here”
what if every “future”
leads to right “now”
and every cup of coffee
gets lost in the bubble
the bubble of troubles
that ball up our past
even now I know this moment won’t last
or in fact is this moment
the only thing that remains
amidst so much change
players playing their games
empty outcomes
concealing inflicted shame
and the worst [kind of] violence
our world has known
if to demonize another’s
understanding of “The Great Unknown”
Lord forgive “us”
for creating a “them”
and fighting again and again…