Trenches or bridges, what is your trade?

What is your purpose, the one that’s not paid?

Shovels and backhoes, dig deep if you please

But that’s just the low road, where none of us sees

What’s possible, who’s over there, bridges to make

Ladders and cranes take us higher, for heaven’s sake

Do unto others or shore up our borders?

Did we somehow forget we’re all invaders and boarders?

Switches or olive branches, what do you wield?

Vultures or doves, who feeds in your field?

And who crawls and creeps, who makes our oxygen?

Our fellow sojourners, so often forgotten 

Trusted person, safest place

Favorite pastime, all lay in waste

What you’re left with, crumpled and heavy

Your deepest dark secret, anxiety stands ready

Victims stone-faced and frozen, an unpayable toll

No . . . survivors they are, floodlights for the soul

Say no or say yes

Each has its cost

To suffer or to bear 

The unbearable cross