Dec 2009 – Jan 2010
Lusaka, Dulles,
and over the Atlantic.
When we wake up as fragments
In some cubist painter’s mind
And form & function fail and
No purpose to our lines.
Maybe we won’t find faith
Maybe we won’t find God
Maybe we won’t find beauty
Or a particular cause.
Still we need – something to believe.
And we need – something to believe.
We sleep & sleep for we believe
Pictures in our heads
Might be the only peace we’ll find
In lands of cardboard lids.*
Maybe we won’t find truth
Maybe we won’t find love
Maybe we won’t find duty
Not in Bentham or in Kant.
But we need – something to believe.
And we need…
We’re fragments now
Finally breaking out
Out loud.
The logic lost
Comes ‘round.
Living without faith
We are unafraid
And there is still a purpose in the gray.
If there’s no design
No function to our lines
There will be a purpose to our times.
Let us write a purpose to these lines.
And we need – something to believe.
And we need – something to believe.
And we need – something to believe.
And we need…
* This verse adapted from “River”, a poem by Rachel Lewis.