called by name

a broken bottle buried under
a mound of mud
out by hands hardened, worked, full of calluses
and lacerations
from all the excavations
creating new creations
filling every nation
with branded bell jars of beautiful breathing bodies
fresh faces
polished and pure
washed of all dirt
no longer a broken bottle
but a song
in perfect pitch
knowing that
there's a crack in everything - that's how the light gets in

but we watch our watches and wait for the inspiration to create
something worthy of time
either yours or mine
but nothing seems to rhyme
or flow as easily as it would if we weren't so severely damaged
flawed lazy selfish dumb
hungry for what never comes
because we fill ourselves with what won't sustain
from temporary treasure we don't
our best and worst
both look the same
through our eyes all we see is
transfixed upon the mound of mud
we still expect hides all the shame
of our brokenness and blame
while we make our mends
with the devil we all tote within
and do our work
to create something worthy of this life we've been given
art that motivates
music that resonates
words that procreate
but the one we should be doing
all of this for
forget your perfect offering

(Inspired by Leonard Cohen's "Anthem" from his 1992 album The Future)


way said...

Like it lots. I was inspired by the very same song. Maybe you remember?


Anonymous said...


Thanks for posting! These words touched me today!


benjamin said...

Yea, I do remember that, Will! But I had forgotten about it as I wrote this, to be honest. It was nice to see it again. And thanks, mom, glad to hear that.

Ethan said...

"forget your perfect offering"

thank you for writing this and posting it. all such true and beautiful words, and i loved the flow of the whole poem. most of all i am happy that it hit me in the chest so truthfully.

benjamin said...

Thanks, Ethan. Miss you lots. Can we hang soon?