When the weather
is calm, theirs are
shoulders to lean on,
but pursuant
to disaster, it's
the noble
who are trouble.
In meltdown,
in plague, war,
death,
or pandemic, it's like
they excel at—
all the sitting still
conviction
all the sitting still
and giving love
while receiving
wisdom with grace
from above;
all the sending prayers
and preaching hope,
while turning cheeks
without a smirk—
is now far worse
than haphazard
than haphazard
or useless.
To the ones who wake up
in afflicted
scenarios,
conviction
is an empty, if deadly
placebo;
placebo;
the only real cure is
doing the work.