ethan bryce
where is god when babies die?where is god when love isnt enough?
where is god when the fight is good
and the fight is righteous?
cold skies, and broken asphault
litter the memory of another day
to begin like we always begin with
an alarm, dreams scattering,
the mindless motion of
tomorrow that became today
and it should be like every other,
every other one was,
patterns make us vulnerable,
to the commmon scenary,
the latent unhappiness
of an ordinary day, and we
think its hard to smile, when
traffic collapses on itself, and
the cops decide its our turn,
its hard to smile, when darkness
comes before we can sleep, and
we think we know the edge
and we think we see the abyss,
and we think we hurt, from
a potential sharp skid,
a wrong turn and a pot hole not on the grid,
but that is our everyday, the cold
car, the endless drone of jobs,
we search for the emotional
and come up emotionless because
it is common,
it is our everyday, we
dont ask god to be saved from
another morning
of the same thing
we try to believe we are alive
thinking we cant
really die, not even knowing,
what death is, thinking that
giant hole in the middle
of the highway isnt
our experience, we
can swerve, we can dance
we can chance one more day
of the mundane
to convince ourselves
we know the pain
of living.
where is the pain of the dead?
with god? someone show
me this fucking god?
posted by swordpoet @ 4:34 PM
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