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I have been waiting in line all this time
whether I knew it or not it is as true as it can be in this place where truth is what we ask it to be
or tell it or demand it or shout it down enough to be, where killers act in mercy
and rape is only natural and the children must pay for it with their lives because they're not wanted
orphans from the word go and in this fire I throw myself to burn

maybe I can pay the penance due or somehow pay part of it at least in order to please myself
in truth I know I cannot ever share in the glory of what you did because it's who you are
king of the martyrs and lost and beggars and addicts and rejects and punks and losers and homeless
lover of this tired man this tired soul this tired mind this aching hole in my heart and center part

sun rises over earth more and more and day upon day with singers waking to sing their songs beneath its warmth
some singing horrible tunes and lonely descants without one mention of the name of truth
me singing of you the sun of you the warmth of a summer day, of dawn breaking clear on Christmas day
not knowing the fullness even close
but drawing nearer with every timid step every fearful glance at the height of the mountain I have chosen to climb with you
knowing you will be most kind most generous because of who you are and what you have done
and even a taste of peace in this soup of war and unrest and revolution gives the strength
for one more sunrise.

Learn more about this author, Chris White.
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