suspension lament


I’m angry
at the pundits at the top that crush
the peasants down below them, at the
bent backs breaking beneath boots shod with blood –
when leading equals leaving,
equals bleeding “them” for what you love –
that green paper, power trails,
I’m seething, seeing justice fail
to act, seeing begging boomerang back
with rough rebuffs, lax and pegging
types in stereo v surround sound –
yes, you, sharpen your axes,
gather round, stone the poor,
wield the facts, stomp the floor –
clap clap clap for us, we’re so evolved,
we’re so resolved to make ourselves the victims,
when the system victimizes those sewn shut, eyes closed wide,
swaying from side to side to hide the shame spurting from the wound –
I have nothing. I am poor.
Yet you run to slam the door
for me, pray for me, send me some vibes
and donate a dollar with your latte for me.

See the first cause, the clauses running
deep in, steeped in, reaping sin, weeping thin –
sages suspended speak:
“This raging won’t end, no one will defend the widow, the orphan.”
Nope, let’s keep socializing endorphins,
checking notifications,
echoing status changes round padded mirrored rooms riddled
with fadded mirrored fools –
I’m seeing myself,
I’m being myself
And I’m broken. I’m broken.

I’m livid at You, Lord,
Who let’s us free to run our games –
to stun, to lame, to blame,
and see the efforts falling short forever.
Tether me fast against the blast of my lungs,
sin speaking from within, sleek sonnets of soot and ash –
I’m greedy, I’m rash –
for the justice I don’t see you wielding.
Can’t you remake your made people yielding?

I am seeing
in Your Word: wrath withheld
(Lord, have mercy)
and justice untouched by the All-Power,
all of us, flowers, much in need, born of seeds scattered,
(Christ, have mercy) –
We matter.
We all do,
we all of us, matter to You,
and that’s why the weight of justice waits on us, takes a slack pace –
– by suspension: redemption
by lack: grace –
I crave the Grand Injustice, yet
begrudge it to those I just don’t get.
(Spirit, have mercy)
In You we can live livid and grieve and salve our seeing,
and let justice fail a little while, long,
and lift the dying, failing, fleeing,
until we cease to hum along
and throaty, thrum in living Song.

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