They say I’m lucky And they’re not wrong I’ve got keys in my pocket A name on the door A suitcase with wheels That still follow me home And people who ask When I’ve landed I’ve eaten in cities I can barely pronounce Stood under lights While strangers sang back Slept in white sheets In beautiful rooms And still woke up Missing something I couldn’t name Backstage after midnight The floor still sticky Someone is sweeping up Plastic cups A security guard Is eating his dinner From silver foil Beside the loading bay I say thank you He says long night And somehow That says more Than most interviews Lucky I know Lucky I know But knowing Doesn’t always make The weight let go My friend says You’ve got no idea How good you’ve got it And maybe she’s right Maybe I don’t But pain is not a contest With a clipboard At the door There is no judge Handing out permission To feel low I can count my blessings Till the numbers blur Still find myself Crying in the shower Still stand in the sunlight Feeling undeserving Of both the warmth And the wound Lucky I know Lucky I know But gratitude Is not a cure It’s a lamp Not a road I don’t want pity I don’t want applause I don’t want anyone To lower the bar I just want room For the whole truth The full weather The good roof The cracked heart The thank you And the help me In the same mouth Without shame There’s a woman At the service station Counting coins For coffee and fuel I hold my card Like a passport To another kind of morning And I hate How easy it is To notice And still not know What to do So I buy her coffee Then drive away Feeling kind Feeling useless Feeling human All at once Lucky I know Lucky I know I have been held I have been spared I have been given More than my share Lucky I know Lucky I know But even a blessed life Can carry A heavy soul I’m not ungrateful I’m just tired And I’m still thankful For the fire
