it grows up in towers
same as hope
in internal towers
Need safety? go
up and down these towers
look inside the rooms of these towers
shut down in one, open up in another
we traverse towers in a zone
speak to ourselves as if to others
conceive by ourselves forgetting others;
I, with millions more, push out my presence
from high and low life to be hyped
not shortchanged in these towers
unaware of that squeezed-dry
shrivelled heart which wants to quit —
quit the game it didn’t make up,
cannot play and never has, nor will win
though not for lack of effort to sort it out
it was just hopeless to find the one
someone to watch when heaven help it
that organ is reanimated. I did not think:
Who hydrates that heart and mind with hope?
Who hinders anger — that gas known to flare with hate?
I am busy and ambitious enough to be unaware, thwarted
because hate, like peat, is to towering heights stacked
dried and readied, fossils of hurt inside trapped
and in secret kindled to smolder for months, years . . .
generation upon generation, century upon century; But
what if I took the time to stand on guard?
What if I were not too busy to care?