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Broken Change

I could hear my last thin dimes and pennies restlessly rattling a curse, 
Lying lost somewhere in the endlessly cruel lining of my knockoff purse
Into which pens just disappear through some hole into a mystery universe,
And the continuous clinking of coins I carried over my shoulder but couldn’t see finally could get no worse, and so I got to thinking:

I’d tear out the lining, and maybe then I’ll find finally some change or at least silence
So I tore through the cheap but mysteriously holy handbag in a fit of rage and violence. 
Out of it fell change, but to my chagrin, the coins were more broken than I had imagined
Just shards of copper and iron - I didn’t know how that could even happen, but somehow it did. 

But I thought perhaps things weren’t as bad as they seemed,
And so I took them to the bank hoping they could be redeemed.  
But my attempt at redemption was met with nothing but anger and a finger shake
From bankers who said, “How dare this currency you deface, destroy, and break!
It’s money for Christ’s sake, and it can no longer be used!
This property of the state is no longer of any real value!”

So I left, but I wanted so much to scream out loud, 

“It’s still copper and iron, hard as ever even in pieces on the ground
And sharp as ever in its shards, and it still shines even beyond
The soundless shimmer in the bottom of a wishing pond!

And when is the last time you picked up or even noticed a penny on the pavement?!!
What do you care?  How dare you complain about how offended you are – Just save it!

Where are your pennies, nickels, and dimes?
I bet you even refuse them as change sometimes – don’t you?!!
Telling the clerk to just keep ‘em; you don’t want heavy pennies taking up space in your bag
Clinking and rattling as you’re making your way!

You’re mad you can’t use the change I have to offer, that these cracked coins cannot be redeemed and are inherently wrong?
Well, none of the perfect change you receive seems to go anywhere better than a can on your dresser or beyond the bottom of a wishing pond, 

And every single day we throw food in the trash bin
And destroy, even shoot the disadvantaged, and treat with disregard a world God crafted!
So shut your mouth and leave me alone; don’t think I’ll be talked down by you
I’ll just take my non-exchangeable coins and go – to my eyes they still have value! 

Beyond my rage I realized 
I’ll just keep carrying this change until the day I die,
And back to the dust my body will return
But the hidden change in my pocket may again be unearthed
And one day, even if it’s a day where I’ll never be
It’s rattle will be heard, yet I fear forever unseen.

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