Deformation

We were skin, we were weather We were wages, breath, and names Nothing brighter than a window Nothing darker than a frame Just the ordinary carried Through the market, through the week Till they leaned in with their meanings And made a surface of the meek One side held us to the light Called us proof that grace was real Would not let us stoop or wrinkle Would not let us want or kneel Kept on lifting, kept on naming Till the air around us thinned Made a relic of the living And mistook the shine for skin They changed the word and kept the weight Blessed and blamed the selfsame thing Not an angel, not a stain Still the same beneath their grip They fought the sign and missed the skin Drew their lines on what we were All that charge and still beneath it Only something ordinary One side marked us out as warning Read a border through the face Counted threat in bone and accent Counted danger into place Would not let us pass as simple Would not let us stay unknown Kept on pressing, kept on pointing Till the shape no longer held They changed the word and kept the weight Blessed and blamed the selfsame thing Not an angel, not a stain Still the same beneath their grip They fought the sign and missed the skin Drew their lines on what we were All that charge and still beneath it Only something ordinary One hand washed One hand marked One called light One called dark One said sacred One said threat Both leaned in And both were set Different mouths Same old need Make it carry Make it mean They changed the word and kept the weight Blessed and blamed the selfsame thing Not an angel, not a stain Still the same beneath their grip Rooms divide and voices harden Round the names they make us bear All that pressure, all that shouting And the object still is there Changed the name Kept the pressure Changed the name Kept the weight Ordinary Under all of it Ordinary Too late