The Clay men

There’s so much suffering in the world.

There are children who are bought and sold

People losing homes and histories

Families being broken

There are women who have never felt safe

Shoppers chasing sales who don’t know why they’re nervous

Tired convenience store workers staying awake through the night

Truckers trying not to fall asleep thinking about their unpaid debts

Salary men chasing the next promotion, unable to escape the game of ambition

People are being taken for granted, unloved, unwelcomed

Adult children confused why their fathers and mothers acted like that, where did the inherited disease begin?

Voters not knowing the crimes of the empire

But most of all I feel sorry for those few men in power

Who believe that power can approximate their soul

And security is more important than dancing in rhythm with your community

Men who don’t have the courage to look their peer in the eye and break this cycle of burning madness

I feel sorry for the rich men who live in constant poverty of never having enough money

Or the powerful men who live in the uncontrollable hell of not having control

If I had an hour to heal

I would heal those men

Who must be deaf and blind to poetry and light

With no ears to listen

With hearts of clay

Not yet given life by the one who turns us into humans

I would turn their sensitive eyes gently from the theatre of shadows they consume

And guide them towards the light beyond the cave

Where the rest of us wait to receive them with forgiveness

We will heal, we can, yes we can

If you want to change the world,

Go sing and dance in the streets

Until the men come down from the ivory towers wondering what the joy is all about