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.

 

*

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Photo at top by John Stanmeyer for National Geographic