[It Is What It Is]

We feel so uncomfortable
Saying the word soul.

In the morning:

We dress
Our children for school.

Then march
Them off to war.

In rooms:

Full of
Semi-automatic clouds of chalk.

Full of
The lingering smell of pencils.

And tomorrow:

Take an eraser
To a predictably bloodied world.

We feel so uncomfortable
Saying the word soul.

S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+