Good is a flag
That flies at half mast.
It’s a story half told.
And you know it well.

Carry the cargo for the
Years of quiet, enduring
Women before you.
Wear the softness
In spite of the wrath.

You’re ever the considerate
but never the considered.
Good is an apology
Of an unjust inheritance
but peace is the anchor
For the boat that rocks.

But didn’t they tell you?
One day, when the night is still,
you take the sails from those
Reckless hands
and you say
it’s my way, or swim

And you can be sure
That the boat will be empty
But your load —
A lot lighter.

Good is a map
that landed in tiny hands
To a destination
We all feel destined to go

But they didn’t tell you:

Honesty is a far less crowded place.