Here To Hide

When the gods you don’t believe
In drag you out of your comfortable
Life and kick your ass long enough
And hard enough to make you
Question your serene acceptance
Of emptiness as the obligatory tyrant
Whose lack of moral concern is
Responsible for your largess—

It’s time to wake up—take off
The bedroom slippers—put on the
Mud boots and go clean the stall
So the horses’ feet don’t rot—

Ride away with a gentle agreement
On your tongue that if loosed would
Sound like an apology but stuck as it is
Between molars is more like a curse
Chomped by inaction into an antidote
For clarity—the steam of a promise swabbed
From the smithy of cold eyes.

Be kind—love what you see—or go
To sleep and stop dreaming you’re one of us.