Come on, Common.
Your down time
is up.
It’s time
to stand down.
Give up,
give in,
give them everything,
or stand up
for your Homeland.
Buy time
in the meantime
while you figure out
how to get on
common ground
or get mean.
It wouldn’t be uncommon.
“Let us in!”
They’re storming the fences.
They’re holding their babies faces to the wire.
Swollen with hunger and tears,
this baby’s cries sound just like yours.
They would delight each other if they met,
but then again,
they would fight like dogs
over crayon or crown.
It’s not uncommon
for children to clash.
There’s a one-eyed woman
near the back of the masses
ranting revelations loudly.
Everyone pushes past.
After all, she’s holding two chickens,
and her clothes are like rags,
but she knows about barters.
She gauged her own eye out
for foresight;
a devil’s deal.
It’s not uncommon
for old hags.
Time is ticking.
“These people are tics!”
“They’ll suck us dry!”
“We will only take a few.”
“Women and children first
through this small opening”
-a hole in the wire-
-a cigarette in a gas tank-
An explosion of bodies pushing through
faster and faster.
It’s not uncommon
for people to panic.
The one-eyed woman has fallen, trampled.
Only the crows notice.
They’ll take her eye later, when the settling comes.
Now the fence has fallen,
and her chickens scurry through the crowd,
chased by children.
It’s not uncommon
for chickens to run.
Come on, Common!
You are the Mother.
Show us how you can be kind.
Come on, Common!
You are the Father.
Show us how hard you can fight.
Come on, Common!
You are the Child.
Show us how loudly you cry.
Come on, Common!
You are religion.
Show us how God can save lives.
Come on, Common!
You are the Void.
Show us how stars can die.
It wouldn’t be uncommon.
So just come on, Common.
*
Photo at top by John Stanmeyer for National Geographic
Thank you for this piece dear Lauren… it is beauty and strength and humble questioning all at once. Your gift of poetry is a gift to all who read it.
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