Poetry

Sixty Seconds

Sixty Seconds

en el espíritu del pueblo​
Sixty seconds. What can one do in sixty seconds? ‘Tis no time at all.
No time. Yet it is time enough to be born to die to say ‘yes’ to deny to fall in love to fall out to keep faith to feel doubt It is time enough to wound to heal to stand to kneel to give to steal It is time enough to wonder to know to one seed reap and another sow With a word a vow a promise Sixty seconds is time enough To stare boldly at power and loudly proudly call its bluff. To climb upon the shoulders of all who came before y en el espíritu del pueblo​ proclaim “We aren’t done yet. Hear me roar.” Sixty seconds. What can one do in sixty seconds? ‘Tis no time at all.
No time. Yet it is time enough to be born to die to say ‘yes’ to deny to fall in love to fall out to keep faith to feel doubt It is time enough to wound to heal to stand to kneel to give to steal It is time enough to wonder to know to one seed reap and another sow With a word a vow a promise Sixty seconds is time enough To stare boldly at power and loudly proudly call its bluff. To climb upon the shoulders of all who came before y en el espíritu del pueblo​ proclaim “We aren’t done yet. Hear me roar.”

The Revolution

The Revolution

do you know the way?

Excuse me, I’m looking for the revolution.

Do you know the way?

I trained all my life, eager to
vanquish foes
defeat evil
fight injustice.

When I was fifteen,
a cousin invited me to a poetry slam
sharing the story of their pain.
“No,
I can’t go to that.
I’m training for the revolution.
Do you know the way?”

When I was twenty,
a friend invited me to a concert
singing the song of their hope.
“No,
I can’t go to that.
I’m training for the revolution.
Do you know the way?”

When I was thirty,
a colleague invited me to a play
telling the tale of their history.
“No,
I can’t go to that.
I’m training for the revolution.
Do you know the way?”

“Do you know the way to the revolution?”
I asked this
of everyone I met.

Then one night, a man
overheard my question
Called over to me
“Yes!
I know the way to the revolution.
Follow me.”

Excited,
I went with the man
Finally,
I would join the revolution

He led me down a road
toward noisy clamour
and loud footfall

My heart raced

A door opened.

I rushed my way in
Sword drawn,
ready to take on all comers.

Came to an abrupt halt. Confused.

The clamour was joyful music
and the footfall was
not made by soldiers at war.

I looked around
suddenly realising
I spent my life
training to fight
when what was asked of me
was to dance.

The poetry slam.
The concert.
The play.
Time and time again,
I had been invited to the revolution.
Ignored it.
Too caught up
in my own fantasy
of what the revolution
should look like.

I stood frozen
terrified
ashamed
No idea what to do next.

A woman walked up to me
smiled
held out her hand
“Want to dance?”

“I…
I don’t know the steps.”

“That’s okay.
I do.
Follow me.”