drum roll

drum roll please

this is the morning of the battle

this is the morning of bloodshed and courage and grit

this is the morning of glory and heartache and victory in our eyes

this is the day we cannot quit

 

drum roll please

this is the morning we must press on

this is the morning we will be either destruction or beauty:

this is the morning we will choose to be either beautiful or destroyed.

this is the day we must continue through the pain and disorienting fog

because this is the morning that tests our souls

this is the day we will see God

 

when did I forget to taste rain?

when did I forget
to taste rain?
to feel my mortality
even in paper cuts?
and when did I forget
poetic refrains
could cut like a shattered vase
into conceptions?

when did I cease to marvel
at every word
exploding on my tongue
bold, exotic, and brash?
when did every sound and rhythm
cease to leave me undone?
cease to over-fill my arms with questions unasked?

and why did I run from this thrill?
why did I hide from this blinding light of truth
expressed in words that jump and grab our throats
(whether to kiss or strangle us we know not)
(whether or not they tear apart or build)

I stick out my tongue and beg the sky for a downpour!
I dig through verses and fill my arms again.