those who rise
will have dirt
in their eyes
tears smearing to mud
across their cheeks

they won't be drinking Starbucks
on the way to hot yoga
repeating dollar store mantras
gilding lead from China

they'll be streaming
wifi from the Earth
that won't come clean
from underneath their nails
taking their messages
straight from god

taking them straight to heart
and flowing weightless
as the river
carries its own weight
but is fluid in its destination

you have to eat oatmeal
with your hands
or drink burnt coffee
filled with ash
or go days where the water
does not pass your lips

and that will change you
it will make you hard
but also soft for suffering
it will disjoint you
from the system
and force you to find the songs
your ancestors
have hidden in the earth
it will teach you
that joy can never be purchased
with the slavery of your labour
and your bonds

you will learn to dance
when your feet are hurt
you will learn to sing
when your voice is hoarse
you will learn to rise
when your knees are weak
because to do anything less
is compliance with the illusions
that separate us from our truths

those who rise will not be pretty
and antiseptic
and untouched
in their hearts
they will carry the wounds of earthquakes
and the cracks of parched
and starving droughts
they will hold mountains
that can't be climbed
and rivers that can't be dammed
they will leak mud from their eyes
but they will be miracles of beauty

they will sing
and they will dance
and they will rise