By 
do you ever feel like
you’re in that big garbage compactor on Star Wars
surrounded by heaps of scrap metal opinions and elbows
standing in waters so murky you can’t even see your shoes
you’re pretty certain there’s something lurking beneath the surface
what’s worse is
the walls are closing in
you’re just searching for a pipe or a board
long enough and strong enough to prop between the oncoming mobs
one thing’s for sure
we’re all going to be a lot thinner
the china is flying in these tiny houses
I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a toilet
or a dinner table
can we make room
for discerning
in an age of pundits perpetually pushing perceptions
does everybody already know everything
is there any room left
for learning
before we jump straight to stake burning
and regurgitating our rehearsed rhetoric
can we make room
to mourn
for lamenting
this mortal condition
before we let our circumstances circumvent our identities
can we make room
for reckoning
these talking heads are deafening
desperate for dirty laundry to toss into a
24 hour spin cycle
7 days a week,
wash, rinse, repeat
is there no more need
for contemplation
I don’t think these problems are gonna be solved in 280 characters or less
is there any room left
for conversation
for nuance
for differences
we’re all so scared of what we’re blind to
what if we opened our eyes amid
our dispositions
and looked for something that wasn’t already written
on the inside of our eyelids
what if we moved the comfy couches in our minds off to the side
and made room
for the wrestle
what if we knocked over a few lamps in there
sometimes apologizing is better than apologetics
we’re all under construction
in all the dust and the chaos and the drilling
can we look past the aesthetics for just a second
can we make room
for the messes
for incompleteness
for progression
sometimes we don’t need the answers
we just need some space from the questions
can we make room
for a day of rest when
we just need to heal from this pain and sickness
can we frame these fragile family portraits in the proper context when
the glass is cracked because it has fallen to the floor for the fortieth time
the drywall anchors keep failing
because the weight of it all is just too much
or maybe we’re not installing them right
either way, it’s us
can we make room
for forgiveness
can we grab a paint brush
roll up our sleeves
and paint some of these walls
can we remember the hue
can we cut out some squares for windows
let some light in here
maybe we could remember the view
this foundation’s got a lot of broken bones
we can’t fix these broken homes without building
can we make room
for the master craftsman
can we consult the architect
instead of taking a jackhammer to the plumbing
just because we found a leaky faucet
can we make room
for becoming
and when we see someone struggling
stuck down there in that garbage pit
and there’s no C-3PO with a code to halt the crushing
can we throw them a new rope
show them the pull of peace
instead of the tug of war
can we raise them up
and invite them through the door
can we make room
for a new hope
