DYSTOPIAN BREATH
Between the streets and city lights
Among the black and white civil rights
And deep down on the ancient earth
A young woman is giving birth
The first of the first
The only child has reached its first breath…
Inhaling the wind straight to its little lungs
It raised its hand and politely asked
Not to be held back and to be left alone
To live its life on its own
So that it could finally, with its own eyes, see
What it had been trained not to discuss
So that it could get on the tree
And choose its own paths and fights
And right there in the hospital bed
It made its little logical plan
To change the world and make it a better place
Not to listen to others, not to hide, to show its face
And somewhere between routines and bureaucratic rules
Its birth certificate got stuck in a drawer
You can’t get away from fools
They’ll erase your life, and make you a crawler
Between the streets and city lights
Among the black and white civil rights
And deep down on the ancient earth
An old child is waiting its birth
| 
Email this Poetry
| 
Add to reading list
