How It Works

If I could grant the world a miracle,
I wouldn’t know where to start.

I have no idea what it’s like to be so hungry that machine grease is a delicacy called ‘butter’,
No idea how many weeks of starvation it takes for a grandfather to call glycerin ‘honey’,
But I know what it’s like to yearn for something more than I have, for every cell in my body to stutter and pray for survival, for every fibre to bend towards the resurrection of Forgiveness.

I have seen bodies laying in the streets,
Surrounded by casings and all the ones that got away –

If I could close the open legs of Baghdad
I’m not sure that I would put another white face in their history books because I know what it’s like to be violently explored by foreigners I didn’t invite,
The impressions of boots take millennia to be blown out of dunes and valleys no matter how gentle or forceful be the wind that blows the sand.
Would I be wasting a miracle to paint over the cracks we have made?

If I sat on the edge of the world,
Would I overlook Jerusalem or Washington?
Two cities sharing a hill, both built on the backs of slaves, both strangers in a strange land,
Both fighting to keep the infidels out of a land they now call their own.
Would giving them eyes to see through their enemies’ be a waste of a miracle?

I have never lived through a tsunami,
Never had the earth lift up beneath me and come back down as water,
But I have felt the world shift beneath my feet.
I have run across fault lines and survived with only fragments left.
If I found myself in a tsunami, my  brain tied up in knots, my legs unable to carry me far enough fast enough,
Would my fear of losing everything teach me how to swim through an ocean turned muddy with our fracking and drilling and drilling and drilling into the veins of the earth, our machines sucking out the blood like vampires?
Would I be a Democrat or Republican if I was swimming through this ocean of blood turned black with our hatred of the body it came from?
Would one miracle really be enough to redeem ourselves?

I have never been hungry enough to call machine grease ‘butter’,
If I could close the open legs of Baghdad, I’m not sure that I would put another white face in their history books,
If I sat on the edge of the world, I don’t know if I’d see Jerusalem or Washington,
And I have never lived through a tsunami,
But if I could grant the world one miracle, I wouldn’t know where to start.
Would one miracle really be enough to redeem ourselves?

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