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?