We want change. We want it so much that we are willing to run
all the way to the past, but once there, we rarely see the need to return to
the present. It is easier to face the past than to face its consequences. We
drown in the past because we usually dive rather than dip our feet into the
murky waters of humankind’s bleak history. It is necessary to open our minds to
more than one element of time, at the same time. The water. The shore. The sky.
We all know which is which. Our times call for serious decisions. We must face
what we need to face. If we want change, there is no other option. But no
matter how challenging things may become, never forget to inhale the air around
us. More important, do not forget to bend down and smell the flowers. Do not
forget to pick the ones we would like to see in the hands of our loved ones. No
flower is more beautiful than the one that we give to those we deeply care
about, even if we have not met them yet. Even if we know we never will.
The
Movement of Flowers
Minds moved by
ideas of movements,
yet paralyzed by inaction.
Intention alone does not
set things in motion.
The romantics whose
heads are stuck
in a rose bush do not
feel the pain of
having their skin
pricked by thorns.
They scream.
“Revolution!”
Oh, revolution.
Sweet, sweet,
revolution.
Let them scream their
love for you, let them caress
your rough surface—
All the while, time
mourns for
the wilted cause—all
dried up and ignored,
having received no
water, no light, no
understanding.
Dead. Left to die. Killed.
Because thoughts are not
enough. Words are not enough.
Though wouldn’t it be
nice if they were,
indeed, enough?
But
even so
they scream and scream.
The passion in the poetry
of their theory
still burns for the beautiful,
red roses that once made the world
more fragrant for those who had inhaled
the stench of injustice for too long.
The roses were all they had back then.
They knew it was important
to fight for a future that does not reek of
needless suffering.
The roses were more than decoration,
more than air fresheners,
so much more than a romantic gesture.
The roses were even more than roses.
They were a beginning.
Minds moved by
ideas of movements,
yet paralyzed by inaction.
Nostalgia cannot set things
in motion.
Oh, romantics, get your
heads out
of the bush and plant
your
own flowers. Learn how to
smell the
air of your time &
continue to fight
from a new beginning.