know that I do love you, world; somehow, sometimes, in ways I cannot always express

I’ve got this CrimeThinc Collective book sitting next to the bed
with a title that keeps running thru my head: “Days of War, Nights of Love.”

I have never been a pacifist
but I feel a true war boiling
in my hands tonight

I am learning to shoot
to load bottles with fire
to slip around unnoticed

but when will I learn to love?

I have no true love for the tribe I’m in
I have no faith in the people

I fight because it’s right
not because I care that much
for their pain

when will I learn to love the way
the fighters who survive the war do —
passionately, reaching for their companions
in the face of boredom and disgrace

and stopping to honor them
imperfect
rare and sloppy from living

when will I learn that love
is something I should give
even when I do not feel
it’s been earned

I know revenge
and now I must learn something
of hope