Hollowing

The 9th ward holds the sounds of ragged hope.
So I promise to Keep those fists high.
You broke your knuckle and it reminded me that I’d staple myself to every cause
So I bandaged your bones.
I can’t watch the world turn to debris in your hands.
I can skip town catch a train but I’ll never escape. At best feel relieved…That maybe you’d be the savior
Not just the waiter.
I’ve ridden too many trains watching littered city streets become homes for women who fought too hard
Are we fighting too hard?
How do I change the world from the cart of the train cabin
I wrote the word peace on my knuckles maybe I could fight off the worlds ghosts.
But you cant fix something so broke. I was so finished with prayers. So finished with allegiance. Cracks of hands become trenches and we’ve melted down all our shields to make bullets. I can do it all but I can also forget. And so will you…but to forgive takes more courage outside the neighbor home hangs an American flag. It looks like a clothesline for ambulance sound that rings through Japan ridden in Nuclear radiation. It hangs like a haze over India. But they never took it down.
America sounds a bit hollow. So lets keep our fists high…we can spread the word “CHANGE” like cancer cells.
I’m done being hollow. Its train tracks and waiting in the yellow glow of moonlight and lies. Ill wait for years but its easier to forget. Catch the train. Get a little hollow.