Knob turned
and door pushed open,
asleep until newly spoken to
and unable now to stop my own
annihilation,
transformation,
re-creation
into what is not entirely yet clear.

Unable not to shake
the hand-me-down scapegoat god,
the one we’re supposed to wait on
to make things better
or end it all

that absolves of collective work for change,
keeps distracted, focused on individual charity
that stokes self-righteousness,
keeps tight control,
as if parceling out crumbs to “worthy” individuals
will set things right.

Sliver of sunlight piercing curtain gap,
tired of being confined in this dark room,
this dark tomb,
reusing words
that belong to other people,
when what my soul longs for
is the voice that speaks within,
“There is another way, walk in it.”