We Are All Exhausted
Don’t you get tired of hating people you don’t know?
Doesn’t it scrape your bones raw and fill your lungs
instead of your soul? Don’t the tirades hollow your
head and twist your cells day after heavy day?
What a burden, a millstone, to only want what
isn’t yours, shoving other lives into your tiny boxes.
What is it like to awaken every morning with only
a list of assaults and grievances to look forward to,
vitriol clenched in your contorted hands? The rest
of us are weary and wary. We must climb a brutal hill
every day to find the civility of a peaceable pond,
one you will never know, or even wade into.
