A Companion Poem "For Lack of Listening"
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I said "I was just trying to be heard." but the grown-ups were scheduling the next meeting about meetings and the stillness was louder than me. I said "I saw the cracks before the walls fell." but they called it anxiety pressed a pill into my palm—a bitter bead to bolt the mouth— traded my bike for a screen. I said "I asked what happens when the warnings all come true." but they gave me the word catastrophizing and sent me to talk to someone who would teach me to cope. I said "I need something—God, or anything bigger than this ungodly." but they said they'd outgrown that they said the universe runs on chaos hope—a feathered fraud— they said forgetting was the price of growing. I said "I dreamed of a world that listened first." but the world was scrolling and the scroll had no bottom and the bottom had no floor. I am still trying to be heard the grown-ups are still busy the world is still scrolling. and I am learning that no one is coming that rescue is a story, fantasy, myth that survival is action, not a noun— I teach myself in the darklessness—where angels file complaints. while the adults argue the wording of the warning no one will ever read. ________________________________________ § FINAL VOLTA But even in the dawn I feel the stillness shiver— a warning the world still refuses to hear an acorn hits my head— the forest still believes in warning even when we don't
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