Ali-Everybody

©Mark Ali, 2020


I’m search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing . . . 

 

They say everybody loves bees, trees, soft knees,

but I can’t feel what they say I should feel when I need to;

I’m living in a world of what’s that, who are you,

but, I wonder, who are we?

 

They say folks get down in the sunshine,

but my life, my life, my life, my life,

it’s not bees, trees, or soft knees; I’m crying out,

no one’s calling in, no one’s reaching out,

so, I wonder, where are we?

 

I’m search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing . . . 

 

They say everybody loves honey, blossoming things,

but I can’t feel what they say I should feel when I need to;

I’m living in a world of what’s that, who are you,

but, I wonder, who are we?

 

They say folks get down in the sunshine,

but my life, my life, my life, my life,

it’s not honey and blossoming things; I’m crying out,

but no one’s calling in, no one’s reaching out, 

so, I wonder, where are we?

 

I’m search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing . . .

 

They say everybody loves constellations, full moons, too, 

but I can’t feel what they say I should feel when I need to;

I’m living in a world of what’s that, who are you,

but, I wonder, who are we?

 

They say folks get down in the sunshine,

but my life, my life, my life, my life,

gave me constellations and full moons;

I’m reaching out, but no one’s showing out,

so, I wonder, where are we?

 

I’m search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing,

search-ing, search-ing . . .

 

for some sunshine.
(inspired by Roy Ayers)

©Mark Ali, 2019


             Mark Ali is a BAWP TC, bawptized in 2009. He uses the subject matter he teaches, English Language Arts, as a diving board for the context he wants to engage, which is humanity. Ali has been working inside the system to provide railroads outside of it for twenty years or so.

 

One Response to “Everybody by Mark Ali”

  1. K.Land Says:

    I looked up your Roy Ayers reference and appreciate this poem’s questioning – who are we? – even more now. Your threes, whether direct from song or repeated stanzas create a spin, a sort of record ride, as if the reader is caught in a loop which mirrors the speakers concerns of expressing an emotion at the right time, concerns of calling out and not being held. I am most moved by the twist in the second to last stanza, where the speaker is calling out but no one is showing out, where the speaker is cherishing yet questioning moons and constellations.

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