We cut our fingernails,
Peel back the sleep from our eyes.
We pull the stray hairs off,
Watch them fall.
Crooked eyes make for
The straightest disguise:
We wear the face of humanity--
Our imperfect noises, ideas, cries.
In the face of despair,
We turn our tired eyes towards
Light.
However dark our lives,
We rise.
Against all logic,
all fear,
all confusion,
all despair.
We rise like rain
That bounces off rock:
Too bold too stay,
Too strong to remain.
Made for more than this,
More than superficial bliss,
We rise.
And while we stand,
The crooked of our pain remains,
But the straight of the sun dances
Like it's new again.
Like it's piercing holes in
Despair.
Like the Nothing that we
Worshipped was a sham.
(I wrote this poem while listening to the following song on YouTube over and over, and over and over, and over and over. And again. Hold Us Together by Matt Maher
