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.