Literati
I recall reading 50 years ago in a book whose author and title I have forgotten a brief passage in which a school of fish are baffled by the twisting and turning of one among their numbers. “What’s his problem” was not their question, rather, their indignant complaint, unaware that their peer contorts so because he is spinning on a hook.
What’s happening in our American streets might well be called the “shock felt ’round the world.” It was felt by young activist Quentin Brown in Australia, who responded with this remarkabley mature poem, submitted now as an entry to the anthology to which I hope you, who are reading this, will also contribute your experience. Please be sure to view the video that follows his poetry, and share it with kindred spirits everywhere who want to change the world.
I hope that this Christmas we have more in common than our pain, and share the hope and desire to make 2021 a year of catharsis and renewal.
Solidarity
by Quentin Brown
Have you ever been
Somewhere in the middle
Of an evergreen moment?
Maybe in a plum-soaked summer
When time is like water
Trickling down your back
Each second rippling
Across an endless future
The ticking clock mimicking
Your pulsing heartbeat
That fills your veins with velvet veracity
And for a moment you don’t mind
Watching sand grains drip
Through the hourglass
Like when we
Make sacrifices from stolen liquor
And pray to each other
Through silent, soft rebellion
No screaming
No slammed doors
Just the people we love most
And adrenaline that tastes
Like sugar-sweet vodka
Our bodies covered in moonlit promises
That it won’t hurt anymore
That we won’t see the ones we lost
Scattered through our playlists
With soaring chords and heartbreak vocals
And dancing at 3am
The tears on our pillows
Will no longer spell out their names
Instead, we will take to the screaming streets
Hungry for something more
Our calloused hands clasped around picket signs
As we slam against police shields
And smile like we were made for war
With red, raw, aching lungs
We create poetry and battle cries
Voices of steel
Accents of blood
Eyes filled with ash
Hearts bold proud pounding
Ichor coursing through our veins
A baseline beating in our bones
As our voices shake the stars
It’s the same electricity
That courses across the skin of the sky
Before a storm breaks
And it scares me sometimes
But I am so tired
Of being told to burn quieter
So I link arms with those
Made of wildfire
And you can bruise us
Bleed us dry
But it will never be enough
To stop us
From earning our place in the stars
Because my generation
Has wrists bound by plastic bags
And lungs filled with smog
We are nothing but back alley angels
And kings with crowns made from bullets
We are mismatched, misled mistakes
We are broken, banished blemishes
Yet still we flourish in the pavement cracks of cities
Polluted by gods
We don’t believe in
Gods who weave heartstrings between their fingers
And stain their skin crimson
As their ears ring with desperate prayers
And their clawed hands tremble with guilt
The weight of the world has worn them down
To a pile of broken bones
Edged with gold and gore and gluttony
So we learn to trust no one but ourselves
We know that the world
Is littered with ruins of empires
Who believed they were eternal
We left our demons there
To become ghost stories
For squalling tourists
But our crimson heartbeats
Edged with glory and madness
Will echo across time and space
And so we stride, powerful
Knowing that in the kaleidoscope of our bodies
They will find what we fought for
Quentin Brown is an 18-year-old author based in Adelaide who writes poetry and stories for young adults. His work has been featured in numerous publications, festivals, radio shows, and local protests defending the rights of marginalised groups.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCD_F1ELUOpIPsu4ABaVTQ1g