The Way We Wish It Was
Seasons without winter’s torment,
Children who stay forever young,
Their skin supple and their hands small,
Grasping at the longings we share.
We wish to dim fluorescent light,
A wink to shush its cruel scold
That bullies our weary aged flesh,
Its wrinkles and drooping creases
Teased by gravity’s constant tug.
We wish that when we stop to pray
That the ground at our feet were soft,
But often the earth is hard, cold,
Strewn with stones beneath the needles
Where we kneel under rustling pines.
We wish that we could float with clouds
And see the winding path below
Where we wander alone along
The well worn trail of our dreams,
In search of the rest of our life.
We wish our longings would dissolve,
And we could accept the regrets
And allow forgiveness, mercy
From this, the way we wish it was,
Which is just the way that it is.
Current numbers in The Drill.