Did this get kind of dark?
Are you cool with the fact
that it got kind of dark?
Okay. Now listen:
I know you have a massive imagination,
but you have no magic
in those swollen hands.
Your fingers can shoot neither fire
nor lightning, nor can cosmic rays
pulse forth from your palms
and melt someone’s face.
You cannot summon a fortune with magnetism,
with nothing but feckless charm.
You cannot change the minds of charlatans
who write manifestos in bad faith
with your faith alone.
Your chances feel slim, even futile.
Every sunset, every sequential darkness: Grim.
Was that cringe?
Are you cool with the fact
that it got kind of cringe?
Okay. Now listen:
I know you have two hands and ten fingers
and two feet and ten toes.
The magic in them may not stream
from your imagination,
but it stems from your true strength.
Stretch out your arms, your legs,
your neck, and start.
You have work to do.
You cannot conceive of the work
to be done, but you know
that you need to do it.
The world is a bad place:
This is no excuse.
When years from now,
future fighters ask you
where you were,
will you have excuses?
“If not now, when” is forever,
for every face, for every soul
in the fight against fascism and genocide,
for fairness among all generations.
And it seems fantastic
to stuff your face in the sand,
to put your hand inside the puppet head,
and drown out the marching band
commanding you to play your part.
You must keep a cool heart
and do the dumb things you gotta do.
Your work starts now,
but you are not alone.
Did that get kind of dark?
Okay. Now listen:
Your magic may not form fire,
but work hard, and you might burn bright
and bring on a better tomorrow.
(November 13, 2024)