Tell Me How

A poem for those who went before me. 

*     *     *     *     *

Tell me how to know this bundle of firing neurons, 
when people keep trying to rewire me.

Tell me how to survive the “culture wars,” 
when I refuse to choose one side.

Tell me how to fit somewhere,
when I’m a piece from a different puzzle.

Tell me how to hope so heavy,
when hopeful heavy hearts live painful.

Tell me flesh and blood has walked here before, 
Tell me your story built with tear-soaked mortar.
Tell me how the curtain tore,
Tell me what the hell I’m living for.

Because if you don’t I might give up.

My only fear is that if
I give up,
I won’t be able to
tell the next me how I got 
here.

An afterthought:

Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your own blood,

and as you lay there in your blood,

I said to you,

‘Live!’