S O M E H O W

S O M E H O W

If ever there was a time
when brothers look at their world differently,
It is now.
When daily events
are plagued with strife, burying sons,
divorcing wives,
Somehow,
Managing to muddle, dreaming dreams,
honing skills, freeing our souls,
Insurmountable trials.
It’s now.

My brothers want the world to know
who said what on the Friday show.
Although I listen and disagree,
each make sense, crystal, clarity.
One speaks logic, one demands fact,
another emerges from a cockeyed hat.
Yet somehow,
they all weep, an identical vow:
“Let our children live in peace,
give them courage to amend their speech.
Give them wisdom beyond their years,
beyond the past, beyond our tears.”

Somehow
It's the same prayer now.

The battle, long ago waged
Numbing spirits, unmarked graves.
A book, ink of disaster
Dying for the mighty master.
Somehow,
I don’t understand it now.

Could it be we are the same,
if we both limp, are we both not lame,
if both are mad, is one insane?
If one heart beats, a quest unheard,
is it true he’s lost among his herd?
Somehow, it’s different now.

I question still, but then somehow
The answer’s gone.
So is he. Does it matter now?