WEBVTT

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"Next of Kin."

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With our Black cloth
and cracked glass eyes,

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with surrender in our hearts
like ragged white flags,

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our muscles twisted
ropes of used up lives,

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we lift this casket built
of sewn together bones.

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We lift this new home
above a pauper's grave.

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We raise this exhausted
body above our heads.

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We have animal strength.

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We have the same red eyes.

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We have the same virus,
the same desires.

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Our hands have wiped
up the bloody dust.

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We raised this body, this
shell of scarred skin,

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we raised Johnny held together
with stitches and steel pins.

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We let go of the soul
of one who gave in.

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We know his storied tongue,
the rusted barbed wire.

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We've worn the filthy clothes,
the starving yellow eyes.

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We've seen people fall into
the street like ghosts.

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We raise the crutches that
help to keep him going.

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They lean against the
wall-- broken, alone.

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We have the same blinding
pain, it's our very own.

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We feel the needles
the dope a god

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we'll never know, no matter
how many times we say,

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but for the grace of God go I.
We may curse that God today,

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but we raise this soul, this
tired body, this new home,

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we lift it high above our heads.

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We sing our sorrow songs.

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