Good Blood, Bad Blood

The Way We Wish It Was

We wish for that we cannot have:

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.