We lay our backs
\ninto the burdens of our lives.
\nWhere is the face
\nwe held in our hands?
\nWhere is its hope and innocence?
\nDo we succumb under the waves
\nwide-eyed and frightened
\ndoing our duty,
\nearning our bread?
\nlistening until the concerto stops,
\nthe poem trails off,
\nthe picture lays on the ground,
\ncorrupted,
\nthe lines stopping with half a face,
\na building without windows.<\/p>\n
Is that how it happens
\nwhen we take up the yoke,
\nearn our bread,
\ntrade the heavens for walls,
\ninfinity for time,
\nlegends for gossip?
\nEarning a living by an empty harbor,
\npushing the canoe into the water,
\ntelling ourselves,
\nwe will be back with baskets of floors,
\nbooks full of poems,
\npomegranates of red,
\nstones picked up like agates
\non a beach,
\ncovered with jade.<\/p>\n
We will return,
\nafter the hours, and toil,
\nand fields cut and plowed,
\nand stock market tallies,
\nand promotions,
\nand pulling in fish,
\nto the forever place we all live in,
\nthe innocence of our hearts,
\nthe tremor of our hands,
\nmolding all the while we worked,
\na soul for ourselves,
\nnot what we think,
\nbut a child whose eyes looked at us,
\nfrom under the waves.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We lay our backs into the burdens of our lives. Where is the face we held in our hands? Where is its hope and innocence?…<\/p>\n