Otherwise
As it is, my wheels get stuck
And spin around in deep ravines,
While I rehearse dark thoughts and lies.
The dusk wears down dawn’s hopeful pluck
And clanging thoughts know where I’ve been;
I wish it could be otherwise.
You may know too what I mean:
That way we have of looping fears,
The circling hum of tired minds,
The darkest shots of what we’ve seen,
The loudest thoughts in breaking ears.
Yet if it could be otherwise…
If it could – we have not thought
Beyond that moment, nor have dreamed
That there might lie more peaceful skies
Than show in our minds’ dark reports,
And truths unlike the ones we scream
As we long for Otherwise.
Listen: you may hear a voice
Which does not yell and does not kill
And does not trade in painted lies;
Let fragile, timid hearts rejoice,
If they have room for praise still,
And sing the songs of Otherwise.
The Consolations of Writing 