Scooters and Cathedrals

I'm getting up early...

by Naomi Wood
A 2 minute read

I'm getting up early for all the people who couldn't.

I rise in the dark emboldened by the voices of those who came before me

 

Because this may just be paper and I like to think outside the box

But we've been standing empty handed in the fields praying for a harvest for too long

 

And they've been pissing on us and calling it rain for some time now

That we forgot to question why the crops weren't growing.

 

Chopped down our forests and carved us into chess pieces that they divide, 

But won't conquer because we have our hands deep in the dirt now.

 

And if you think your voice is insignificant then

You have not seen how the smallest creatures create their cathedrals.

 

 

It's a mess. Things are farcical. Life like a ripe piece of Halloween satire.

 

TV barking like a dull eyed bear with boulders for fists.

 

Meanwhile the tide is rising and it's threatening to take back the land.

 

And we small huddle of fools stand gazing at the sky.

 

 

But occasionally we look into each others faces

 

We make a life raft from each others limbs.

 

We sail into luminous waters on Wednesday

 

And transcend velocity at weekends.

 

 

A girl on the bus smiles right into the middle of you

 

And you see old ladies laughing 

 

Small dogs don't understand the stock market.

 

In the end, like them,  we're all just chasing our own tails.

 

 

But trees still get fatter on a full moon and 

 

We are made of the same sap.

 

A murmuration that would carry us, too, 

 

South for winter following the pull of planets.

 

While crickets rub their legs together in the long grass.

 

 

A man comforts a teenager on the checkout

 

And in the park someone is feeding the birds.

 

We are grains of sand that snag

 

On the fabric of each others dreams

 

White water rafting

 

The spin cycle rendering all of us; laundry.

 

 

Ultimately our colours all bleed into one

 

On a warm wash.

 

And I can taste familiarity in a stranger's walk

 

Sometimes.

 

 

There are fires raging and monsters

 

Living in all of our bellies but 

 

Some days

 

You see hugs instead of handshakes

 

Or a grown-up riding a scooter to work.

 


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