when we want to reach
out and hold tight to the hand
of temptation as if we
were teenagers on our first date,
slowly loosen our fingers,
helping us to flex them so
we can stroke the fur of a
frightened dog who shakes
every time the thunder rolls.
when we think the best route
is to turn our souls into
airbnbs for the knuckleheads
of cruelty to rent out for
as long as they need, gently
whisper in our ears that we
might want to turn them
into shelters for the grace,
the hope, the justice which
has been kicked to the side
of the road by the privileged.
(c) 2024 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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