David Fleming
It's All Academic   www.davidflemingsite.com   
(Something Died) (That Day)

June 29, 2018

(Something died) that day:

As an aside, let me say,

We woke up in the morning

With the greatest hopes

And beliefs in our set ways.

Set out to rid the nuisance,

Anticipate its absence,

And a celebration

Of our constitution.

But everything can change

Quicker than a swing

Of an axe or a vote

Leaving the rest to re-arrange

The pieces that make no sense

And can't fit the view

We've made of reality

Under the weight of despair immense.


Something Died (That Day):

A hope that the status quo

Would be enough

To nurse the body through

The recovery so slow.

A faith that our human-ness

Could remain unscathed

Despite the blows to the body

And the never-ending turbulence.

'Cause everything changes

The moment the air constricts,

And the mourning body politic

Has the hollow eyes of strangers.

Even a slight flexion

May only bring short relief

As the new order

Turns a different direction.


(Something) died (that day):

What we share;

The amount we care;

What seems fair;

The anger we spare;

What can scare;

The support we bear;

What risk we dare;

The love we bare.


Something (died) that day:

I listen to Belly

And hear that "she brings it."*

And I feel myself alive.

All I need is the angels to sing it.

And I know that something that day

Was meant to shine a light

Into the darkest part of my soul

To affirm I can live this way.

* "Girl." Belly. Dove. 2018.