My Change, Our Change

Hidden behind posters,

Behind words,

Behind screens. 

A voice, a voice 

Shouting in a tunnel,

Bouncing off the walls,

Bouncing off the ceiling 

Until it seeps into the stone.

It leaves the pavement as a hiss of steam,

Waves in front of passing eyes.

Waves, yes waves,

That is all.

Waves mean a passing, a going, a gone.

 

The labyrinth of an eye,

Shuffling us through,

Straight to the center.

Condemned to the stained retina.

But I have brown eyes,

And you have blue.

We see lines forming,

Looking in from different directions.

Our tornado spinning into shape.

Eye and whirlwind,

We are the destruction, we are the calm.

A new force surfacing,

Choosing to grow into potential.

 

What if there's no donkeys, no elephants?

We are birds, 

We are fish,

We are everything in between.

Singing the song of the white poppy,

Dancing the dance of the broken rifle.

We will be a jungle,

All different, but one.

We can make ripples, waves, tsunamis.

One day filling the ocean,

Drop by drop,

The many, many voices,

We will be the change.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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