My heart feels too heavy
to carry through another day
which means
it is still alive
still beating
and yet
to be honest
I don’t want to hold my head up
I don’t want to stay above
the waters of a shallow grave

what in this world
will give me back
the will to live
when hate is so quick
to take a breath away
to stop a heart
inside a strangers chest

what thesaurus of fear
what dictionary of ignorance
what is it that defines
the vocabulary of the blood
inside the mind
that loathes the brother
he does not know

the senators keep praying
praying for another distraction
the congressmen keep thinking
thinking of no one but themselves

and we just mindlessly nod
and bob our heads
debating who is to blame
pointing fingers while ignoring
our own reflections

apathy keeps us choking
on our own silence
and why are the living so quite
how is it that the dead
with no air in their lungs
no movement in their hearts
can sing so much brighter
can speak so much louder
than so many of those
that are still alive

nothing good will come
from the living
who refuse to speak for the dead
and the dead must be sick of dying
and I wonder why the grieving
aren’t sick to death of grief

and in all honesty I find it hard
to live another day in a world
that can make my heart

feel so heavy

too heavy

to carry through another day

but its there in that weight
isn’t it
that heavy
that burden of hope
that we know we are still alive
that are lungs can still take
and give breath
that our hearts can still beat
still pound beneath our ribs

and there in our pulse
no matter the weight of our hearts
should we not always
find the will to be alive