Step Up
There is always more
that could be done,
forces we could muster,
fights we could fight,
our own feet out there
on the pavement, and
our own hands wiping
away injustice, pollution,
hunger, anger, pain. We
are not victims, after all.
We are not without a
sense of right and wrong,
without determination.
Even at home or work,
in our own back yards,
we see what is broken.
We know what isn't
working. We have pens
that make lists. We have
hammers and wrenches
and buckets of paint.
And we can read more
books and mend more
fences and give up our
plastics and opioids. And
we can plant new trees.
We can hit the gym and
learn a language and be
better about eating clean
meals that we prepare.
And we can love more
fervently and always
kiss each other goodbye
and bake the neighbors
fresh cookies and serve
on local boards and
start saving for retirement
and spend more time
in the outdoors and write
letters to the editor and
vote in city elections and
write poems on the sly
and pray for those less
fortunate and finally
organize the photos and
put away the summer
clothes and sing and draw
and save the whales and
this is what we do with
all our time until we die.
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