I Know
I know you’d rather eat your fill,
And dance as lively rhythms play,
Spend holidays beneath Ibiza’s sun,
And keep your conscience far away.
I know you want no poetry:
It breaks the peace you long to keep,
And may yet bring you close to tears—
But you won’t surface from the deep.
I know you cannot give your love:
Your inner world is walled in shell.
You will not let a gaze reach in
To where your deafened soul must dwell.
I know you look on flowers with disdain,
Dismiss the world of nature, birds’ refrain;
You count out coins on rosary beads instead,
And you would rather feast on ham than bread.
I know you do not care for me:
I stir your soul against your will.
So listen to this age-old truth:
Your conscience you will never still.
You’ll never hush your conscience.
You’ll never hush your conscience.
Never hush it.
Never hush it.
Your conscience—
You will never
Hush it.