working it out

we, escaping senseless brutality in mindless drift,

may move through the world equipped with

blinders and coded boundaries, not seeing

what we see, but what we have told ourselves,

been told, believed so long, more cogent thought 

is never sought.

.
we, caught in self-defining dramas, regrets,

desperate pain,

recoil from compassionate connection that

would be our one true hope for humane

community of mutual repair, future reborn.
.
we cry, toil onto silent pillows or outward

to The Universe of our loneliness, then shun those

we cross off as not who we want to be.
we decry inhumanity writ large or small seen

on our screens or streets or halls, but softly

or to agree

— and just what is humanity?