The Stakes (a poem)
by remysaverem
The stakes
have never
been
so high.
It sounds
cliched,
but who can deny?
Every generation has its moment —
“Ism”s are endemic.
But now, they all foment
Amid global pandemic
and disintegration
of entire ecosystems.
Every day,
another symptom.
We’ve fought genocide before,
in World War Two,
and made it stop.
But there are ecocidal tipping points,
and we are way past the top.
We
can’t
breathe–
Not when police are killing us.
Not when our next breath could be
a ticking time bomb, 2 weeks hence.
Not when ecological protections
Are being undone by Trump and Pence.
Which will kill us first? Genocide? Ecocide?
I hate sitting in suspense.
We can no longer
countenance
those still sitting
on the fence.
Time to make a stand.
Feels like “end times” are at hand.
I really would have enjoyed feeling safe to live a long life.
That luxury would have been grand.
Now, sometimes, that chance feels blown away,
like a beach’s random bit of sand.
Our vision is clear.
We see through the lies.
Only in collective activity
to revolutionize
are we likely to see
a community
able to live to be
old and wise.
