Nowhere 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.