Sitting in a circle

Common problems,

Same jacket even some of us.

Outrageous, magic even

That people so wonderfully flawed

Can mend it together.

As if piling sins up high

A great big writhing stack

And laughing around it helped.

We were reminiscing

On sorrows of the past,

Maybe it’s true.

Maybe they can be in the past

I always wanted brothers like this,

The kind that listen and love.

To put on display

The skeletons in the closet

Like a museum of remorse.

And they still just listen,

And when it’s over say

“I’m glad you’re here.”

– Vagabond Prophet