I'm getting up early...by Naomi Wood
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
There are fires raging and monsters
Living in all of our bellies but
You see hugs instead of handshakes
Or a grown-up riding a scooter to work.