Currents

Dad, he woke before the dawn

he dresses in the dark and he’s gone.

The car engine moans, he drives in alone

to deepen pits in endless rows.

His boss says “My friend, in life there’s nothing free.

and no one can afford to be,

so put your aching hands to oiling their machine.”

The dutiful lost in their going

cry buzzsaw swarms engulf the slow ones.

Each will decide if in this life

promised deliverance will someday suffice

when every moment’s stained in sacrifice

as we ask ourselves “What do I sell this time?”

(the dismal doorways of despair still will oblige).

Fences carve property scars,

each line designed to keep apart

those cutting loose the shortage noose

hung to adorn their gilded ruins.

But until we all break free no one is free

and each glimpse convinces me…

We are the currents raging towards release

The luscious veil of daybreak to the east

The sprout proclaiming space through crumbling streets

The gentle-handed new day tendency

So come my sisters, brothers, sing with me

Come my brothers, sisters, sing with me.