you are not on call
for the pain of the world
I know you feel every hit of the hammer, beating
plowshares into swords,
and people into plowshares
and every time you fail to step between
the blow and it’s target
the injustice is sewn into your bones, too
and so
when the hammer rises, you must rise with it
raising your voice your eyes your awareness your body
whatever part of you that can given as an offering
you cannot stay this way forever
sewn to this cacophony of blows
every movement of yours a follow
until your body is owned by the drumbeat of
the raising of weapons
until your days string together in a stuttering heartbreak of rage
and you cannot
catch
breath
but this is what you promised
to those who don’t get to choose whether or to to show up for the fight
you promised
that you would hold nothing back
I know
except, you cannot be on call
for the pain of the world
it is not work that can be done
without sleep
when we said that people are too sacred to be
beaten into plowshares
or swords
we meant you
we need you
for the fight
and we need you for all the things
that are less, and more, than fighting
we need you to be ready to listen in the soft way earth listens
to rain in the hours before dawn
to be tender, to cradle precious things, to hold the smell of dew in your hair
to hum the song that flowers
will rise up through the earth to hear
I need you
to stay
in love with the world