after the sandy hook things got weird
with the outline of my torso vanishing daily
kim kardashian making headlines carrying kanyes baby
things, got weird.
every formerly amiable retriver i passed on my runs through the park seemed more timid and scared
enough to snarl and nip at my fingers
and every toddler at the rose garden playground started packing heat in the front pockets of their gap overalls
my thoughts lingered even harder than usual on if i was a ghost yet
cause i’d really like to be, you know,
that freedom i mean,
its a very human thing to want to be free

after sandy hook
things, got weird
we started lunging our kids like siberian horses,
corralled em through detectors,
gave them color coded punishment sectors,
i even saw a couple misbehavers eating from a feed sack strapped to their muzzles in the cafeteria
things got weird, thats what im trying to tell ya
but i get it now, i get it,
all that injustice, all that insanity,
was just to create negative space for liberation to push against again
we all need something to push against
i knew a guy who used to run skid-marks on the helicopter landing of an oil rig
just to get by, just to push back,
and i know women who fly
high shrill notes in church choirs for the sake of dousing post-marital trashcan fires
and its all they can do,
we all need something to push against
liberation is no different

so after the sandy hook shooting things got weird
with more iron poured into more efficient molds
smoke from the furnace like a pink floyd laser show
whispers in the darkness that we listen to calmly
telling us to grow wholly, eat well, diet right, protein by the pound
while bellows sweet bellows churn gravestones in granite
we don’t hear the clanging cause we’ve simply adapted
and theres pressure sharp pressure we pass off on advil
the demons and bones overflowing the closet
-all that injustice, all that insanity, there to create cause for liberation to push

my thoughts lingered on if i was a ghost yet
that freedom i mean,
that freedom in pushing

from being on camera at every intersection,
or being recorded by google when searching directions,
or having sex drive dissolved down to a science,
or being force-fed images of westboro baptist,
because every image finds its mark on the soul,
like every date night sweater sends a different message of your expectations for how the night should end,
and after sandy hook, when things got weird,
the messages we were sending the holy
were filled with more puns than substance
more guns than holistic precedence
more RGIII and Halo than a game night with our parents

all i have is this rambling backlog of incomplete spirit
pouring from my mouth, its my new years gift to y’all if you’d be kind to hear it
and listen acutely to a call to push soundly, and strong against daily activity
that has locked us in doubt and a shattered sense of a human’s divinity
come with me and hold god in your company,
not the hallmarked white bearded man but a manifest heaven
on earth
where a land of the free is not the embodiment of the implementation of contemporary slavery at every economic crossroads and mass incarceration opportunity
where a brave man is not the man who will kill an intruder on sight
where charity is looking into the eyes of who you believe is the least of this earth
and smiling humbly to recognize the power in his intrinsic human worth

we all need something to push against
liberation is no different
after sandy hook
things got weird
all that injustice
all that insanity
its a very human thing to want to be free