Children of the Flower Children

Children of the Flower ChildrenWe are the childrenof the flower childrencoming into full bloomThe seeds of their hoperise up in our colorful bonesWe cut our teeth on their resistanceWe were then a people unwillingto accept an invented narrativewith fighting cloaked in peaceWe dread times like theseWe spend our livestrying to prevent the need for revoltWe would much rather grow foodand call the circle to gatherRather play with children out in the parksOur energies are miss-spenton trying to protect the precious liveswhen there has been so much intentional lossEven as we plant our seeds,they are tearing up the groundand poisoning the waterOur grandparents could drink the water,our grandchildren cannotWhat else do we need to know about times like these?They changed the roadway in front of my little old houseOne of the last old houses for milesNow there’s a freeway hereMost of the birds have goneand street lights shine into almost every window at nightinstead of the trees that used to stand herethe big semi brakes are squeeling the 4 am beginning of lightNo way to stop it nowYet there’s good news herebecause the oranges are almost readyand roses are early bloomingIn truth I never stopped putting flowers in my hairBut now flowers in my hair is an act of resistanceIn solidarity with my AncestorsThere are over 100 wars nowI refuse to be a part of a warThe one that we are fighting hereHere in this nation it is just heating upthis one continues onfor the battle of our mindsI shall use my time wellin these coming yearsFor I am called to gather usI could use my life forceto dismantle the patriarchy brick by brickBut I think I’ll call a circle insteadWe will put flowers in our hairWe can already see what’s going onWe will Organize with Love at the center of our choicesHere's the best news I can dream ofThis will be a time of great poetry and storytellingand songs and marches and depth conversationsand paintings that speak to the future we believe inWe will be here with you gathering flowersand pouring the strong tea of revolutionand laughing our asses off as often as possibleLet us speak the language of flowers,for we are the childrenof the flower childrenAs the daughter of a poet,my pen must be aflamewith the beauty of justice and kinshipSoon I will find my voiceand until then I will speakthe language of flowersShiloh Sophia

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