One more

One more day to figure it out.

One more day to turn over the wrong tables

for the right reasons;

correct the wrongs spray-painted on crumbling walls,

the signposts of injustice.

One more day to find the right god,

tattooed on the arms wrapped around our latent lusts.

One more day to cry the tears meant for another,

for ourselves, for our children’s children, still gasping for

breath under the rubble of a thousand bad decisions.

One more attempt to set the bones,

broken, dislocated from too much heavy lifting

of things not our own.

One more song to sing, croaked out

to friend and foe, neighbour and fiend,

with words yet to come.

One more choice, to free, to find, to follow, to forget

what else might surely come.

One more day for one more day,

for one more.