A truly wonderful poem.
I’m an old branch of driftwood on the beach
Why do they think the fire within me is out of reach
I see our universe in a blade of grass
And every barricaded window is only a piece of glass
Our combined pointed scratches will shatter panes into light
Every sharp word we write, will be another molar bite
Every tiny drop in the river, eventually flows into the sea
Every little ripple on the lake, begins a wave set free
Do not be quiet, speak proudly, and have a say
Our voices are amassing strength, do not delay
The cloudy silence, enforced by corporate powers
Cannot be the way to nurture our earth’s flowers
Ivor Steven (c) Jan 2020
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