The Tired

Andrew R. Duckworth

I

The world seems tired,
Perhaps as tired as I am
Of its unending tantrums,
One after the next,
Like a spoiled child
Having to deal with life.
It’s tired like everything-
Tired eyes, tired words,
Tired feet in tired shoes
Thudding against the tired floor.
Understand, everyone is tired-
Tired of tied hands,
Tired of sagging eyes,
Tired of aching feet,
Tired of being so damn tired-
Tired of worry,
Tired of sadness,
Tired of praying,
Tired of patience,
Tired of repeated history.

II

We forced the Earth to tap dance.
We never gave her lessons,
Just pushed her out on stage
And expected a masterpiece.
And then she started to cry
And she wouldn’t stop.
We got frustrated-
Too much invested,
Too much at stake.
We forced the Earth to tap dance.
Eventually, she did.
She made us feel it.

III

I imagine the end of the world
Will probably occur sometime
Within the next decade,
When we’re so tired
From the weight of it all
That we least expect it.
We’ve seen the same white guy
On television, making a career
Out of it, using impending doom,
Using words of the prophet
To increase profit,
To thicken his wallet.
Jesus got tired of it too.
Nothing ever changes.
Not really.
I’m still here to watch it,
The last spectacle.
I never wanted to, but here I am,
At the last of the last days.
One part says to be joyful,
The larger part-to fear.
But I’ve grown tired of both-
The blandest form of luke warm-
Tired of hoping,
Tired of waiting,
Complacent in the face of disaster.