This feels deep

This feels deep – the level of instinct, survival,

to be in tune with the tribe. Is there not

also a rebel instinct? The one who seeks

the new way, the mutation that dies alone

– or saves all.

 

Yes, youth bucks against parents – how else to grow

into power? – a mere swirl in the ceaseless flow

of this swollen river. Alphas swim, lightweights

float, downstream. I’m ploughing upstream.

Against floodwaters of community, family, father

– even the pull of wife and son – my future

roles: upending their values and expectations.

 

This feels deep, why risk it? How could I dare?

Truly I am no rebel, for me their hurts are

collateral damage, unfortunate, unavoidable.

This is bigger, by far. We’ve each our persona,

our place on the chessboard – and we’ve a light

inside, a spirit that speaks, the voice of the heart.

 

My light shines where it’s clear no-one has seen,

reveals the forces spelling their certain disaster.

Seeing this, everyone else is like lemmings

hurtling over the cliff. In the teeth of their

stampede I’m holding my flag high, for any

with little dust in their eyes. I don’t have a choice.

This feels deep.