Part of a Picture
As creatures of a tribal ilk
Suckled with the milk of storied past
Smoothed and blended, soft as silk
Asked to be a puzzle piece that conformed
One of a million pieces, of a million pictures
Painted, cut, bent and transformed
Beaten into place, to ensure the flow
Of past to present to future alignment
To imagery that everyone will now know
And the songs, stories, we will applaud
Because we’ve always done so
No matter if some of us are appalled
But we cannot hear we cannot see
For we have no need of wisdom
We know who we are
and what our children will be
Then we hear some whispers in the night
Doubt is her name, or is it Wisdom
To challenge, to make us wonder what’s right
But we drown her with our coffee or tea
As we consume our silky, insidious breakfast news
And take comfort in our picturesque painted sea
Where all is as it should be, perfect and blue
No matter the doubts of distant storm
Making for rough seas, which we always knew
Would be here someday to beat on our shore
And mess up our perfect picture story
As the appalled are beating on our cottage door
For there is no other refuge from the coming storm
And we are now challenged by our doubts, or wisdom
As it may be, and the altered reality we need to form
A new picture, new pieces, a new me
That will be something better, something sweeter
And a more beautiful and peaceful sea
