And little boys and girls, Will wake up in their loving beds, And toddle off to school; Oversized backpacks, Light up size 5 shoes, Bouncing up the steps Together, Without a notion of what we’ve done. And other little boys and girls Will wake up in hotel rooms, And others in prefabs, And others in tents, And others in bombed out ruins, And others in stiff white cotton cocoons, And others in the wailing arms of someone even more helpless than you, And others in coffins made of scorched concrete and warped steel rods, And others in skin stretched taut and raw across their bones, Together, Without a notion of why we’re doing this. And others will wake up In yet another terrifying photo, Squeezed into your social stream Between the kittens and the influencers And the influencer kittens. All this life swipe consumed. All this death, swipe consumed. All this hate swipe consumed. All this suffering swipe consumed. Consumed; with a tut, Between the opened fly And the porcelain flush, Before we get back to the morning rush Of work emails and sports results. Together, Without a notion of what we’re doing at all.
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Read more from Season 3…
This is the third season of Notes and Noises. If you liked this (or didn’t) why not take a quick look at some of the other posts in the series:
I feel that this poem would deserve a proper page to rest upon, a proper book to claim for home.
Oh my goodness. We need poems like this.