easy drug

you make it sound so easy. favours, packaged and bubble wrapped philosophers. i know good intentions. the difference between how it tastes and how broken it is with shame. it’s the surface of this waterfall mirage. there’s more than meets this cliche phrase. maybe i feel this way because i still find it hard to rest. freedom we fight till our arms and feet grow tired. give me one more dose of this morphine. it might just keep me bridging till i meet my mark.

i don’t know the colour of these ropes entangling me, the size of the brick choking me and this water under the draw bridge submerging me. i’m afraid to breathe. can you really tell why it is hard to try?

it’s easy to say it like you do. for the pieces of your fragments have come together much more considerably, than scattered chaff blown and tossed about in the wind. from the moment we left the mother’s womb, we’ve had to make up each to our own lack and make do with the men absent from the breamaker’s mill. how can you teach a child to count if he never found his fingers chewed off by the wild west hound? how do you get a blind man to paint the color of the wild forest lake? how do you get to show the way if you’ve never been where we’ve been before?

if your arms are strong enough. if your spirit is bold enough. if your faith is wide enough, lend me a portion of your quilt for cover, strength to hold my fragments together, your breath to show me the grace of my father, if our hands and feet like jesus be.