When I was young, the day burned bright
and the night was far too dark
and the paint peeling from our house
never let us forget times were hard
I didn't understand the cracks in mother's hands
or why I couldn't wake in another town
or how much she struggled to forget St. Joseph
and just say, settle down.
The world I read in college wasn't what I thought it'd be
it was more than what I'd known or ever believed
my faith lies in those books, crushed like a flower
between the weight of its own eulogies
My father always said, I'd regret the life I led
and shudder at a trumpets sound
but the only God I miss doesn't exist
it's the voice that says, settle down.
My sister sits in Minneapolis
and professes what was passed down
not thinking that if Jesus could only see us
he wouldn't claim a crown
When my brother landed in New York,
he could finally love anyone he found
and I hate to say Manhattan was the first place to tell him
breathe easy son, settle down.
Now that I'm older, all I hope to find
is a pen and my feet on the ground
but these thoughts are a fever in my half sober mind
and I write them just to settle down.
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