Trust

The drivers will trust the plastic-and-metal hull

to protect them from other masses of metal

hurtling down the road at 60 miles an hour.

The alpinists trust the asperities will hold their weight,

trust the ropemakers who threaded their fate,

the villagers trust the snow up the mountain will stay.

The lovers trust their hearts will withstand the blows,

those which sear the body and send down the throes,

dying of a soul ache is no longer in fashion.

Parents trust no funeral card will reach them at all,

and trust never to receive that midnight phone call.

Workers trust never to become superfluous,

trust colleagues to do their work and not shit on us.

The dancers trust everyone hears the music inside.

The musicians trust everyone sees the dance they hide.

Friends trust their friends to pick up the fucking phone,

no one this depressed should be left on their own,

they trust that ready-to-snap bootlace to hold

because they need to catch this last train

to help their friend as their forces wane

thus straining the very fabric of the world.

We trust hundreds of small things, every day,

we even pray for storms to pass overhead,

to hold and to let go, to leave and to stay,

we need to trust when all hope has fled

and black, menacing clouds come our way.