What historic shadows do we live with?
What bricked, mortared, and hole-riddled, but still beating heart will we keep saying suffices?
What love? What?
This battered banner
These stars
Ready now, to tell true stories
Able, finally
To let go
To grow
I’m patient
And there was endless music before you
I recall it played on and on
But I didn’t listen much
And I could get shit done and not hear
Propagandists whining feigned blues
Questioning my faithfulness to the sport
My heart’s whereabouts, my stamina
Like the notes and rhythm were Satan
And I was a modern-day Job
Let history repeat itself if it must
For
as long
as I can
remember,
cinnamon and honey
together
has brought nations
to their
knees.
LisaRosier.com 