fight song
scraped together
enough soot
from all of my old
empty pipes
to pretend that
I’ve got something
to smoke
let this not be the song of the downtrodden
but rather the song of the worn and strong;
the leather sack beat into its prime
last night she
spoke about
kinuk inuk,
pulling apart,
crushing,
rolling
it feels good to be working, creating
something that can perhaps outlast its own physicality
though I don’t know that I am, life is so large
you want your bloody chapped hands to stand for something
you want your locked knees and knotting body to bring
some sort of return, you want everybody to know
you made your claim
that’s all a self-fulfilling thing there, the fight
the pain the loss the struggle the claims the victories, defeats,
all the same, there, in one big life, its trajectored path,
curling, and twisting and turning, whurling and burning
on its heels, and again knotting;
the losses are the victories, defeat is the victor, always the
champion, joy is always only found in defeat, the fight is the
life, to live is to fight, and death, the final, true celebration
nobody lives who is not fighting
and a claim is a win, and a loss;
sense your defeats and find joy
I could use another cup of coffee
and I’ll finish smoking this soot ash
lay down my knot of twine, rise, and return
to finish off this song, to turn through
to the other side of the door
we worked our asses off, that was how it had to be
we barely reached half our original ideas, time
just isn’t enough
and there was not, there never was, and there never will be
the magical million-dollar dream immediate payout;
but there was a small payout, there will always be the small
payouts, just about in proportion to the pain and skin of
your soul and ass that has been worked away
and that’s the way
it has to be
the fight is the life
all the fight is just the life
fight strong, fight proud, even in the dirt, with
blood on your brow, fight on for your beautiful life,
fight on, fight on
Tags: books, Joseph Greenwood, Pipe Etchings, by Joseph Greenwood
