Bad Week, Good Shoes

This week took swings.
I'm still standing in the light.
(hallelujah anyway)

Monday the car failed its MOT.
Wednesday the news I won't repeat.
Thursday I cried in a supermarket
by the freezers, very complete.
So don't tell me I don't have reasons
to stay home with the curtains drawn —
I brought every single reason with me
and put my dancing shoes on.
The piano hits like agreement.
The kick drum takes attendance.
Present: everyone the week went after.
All of us, suspiciously well-dressed.

Not because it's easy.
Not because it's fixed.
Because the body knows a secret:
praise is how you resist.

Hallelujah anyway!
(anyway!)
Bad week, good shoes, loud floor.
Sing it with your fists — sing it —
hallelujah anyway.

Anyway.
(anyway!)
Louder.
(ANYWAY!)

The woman beside me lost her job Tuesday —
she's dancing like she found a better one.
The man in the good suit buried his father —
he's here because his father would have come.
Every hand up in this room
is up against the odds of it.
This isn't denial. This is defiance
with a kick drum underneath it.
The freezers can keep Thursday.
Saturday belongs to us.
The organ underwrites the whole claim.
Signed, sealed, four to the floor.

Not because it's easy.
Not because it's fixed.
Because the body knows a secret:
praise is how you resist.

Hallelujah anyway!
(anyway!)
Bad week, good shoes, loud floor.
Sing it with your fists — sing it —
hallelujah anyway.

Truth is, out past the kitchen door:
for the ones not fixed yet — anyway.
For the calls not returned — anyway.
For the phone that didn't ring — anyway.
For the week that won on points
and still lost the fight — anyway.

The freezers hum their cold little hymn —
let them. I've got a louder one.
My shoes are the argument. The floor agrees.
Thursday can hear us from here.
Anyway. Anyway.
Three, two, one —

Hallelujah anyway!
(ANYWAY!)
Bad week, good shoes, loud floor.
Sing it with your fists wide open —
hallelujah anyway.

Still standing.
(in the light)
Hallelujah anyway.
(in the light)
Hallelujah anyway.