(Poetry) Speaking Up

Is this some lingering embarrassment
we hide
from ourselves?
“Without
truth,
there is no hope.”
I mean to say —
if anything can be right,
then anything is right:
and nothing is wrong.
And my hopes, my dreams
starving, dying, R.I.P.
(as if there were peace
when anything is true.)

I say, if life is just random chance
and we are bouncy white balls on the roulette wheel
and we don’t even get a percentage of the take,
then perhaps our lives aren’t special
or important, or necessary at all.
And without any absolutes in my life,
I’d be right
(as much as right is right
when nothing is wrong.)

Look, when I’m hungry,
I find something to eat.
And it’s no great leap
to recognize my emptiness
and my awkwardness,
my lingering embarassments.
Well, even a simple recipe
has a basic sense of right and wrong,
and that sense
makes sense
to me
(like when
the belief that
some things are always true
is food for thought).