Kites for Bread and Roses When the big sea has stopped rising and the maps we’re through revising and I can think of storms as friends, I’ll go down to the beach again. I’ll stand still there in that bright surf and sing a song to this dear Earth. I’ll sing climate change to its end. I’ll sing tears for where we have been. I’ll sing to things that we have learned— the fossils we should not have burned releasing the power of former suns, bringing losses that cannot be undone. Sad losses the children will inherit. Species gone without much credit, thanks to the piles of money earned and all the corners left unturned. I’ll sing to anger rising still. Our leaders let firms do their will. The people did assert control but not before the barons stole. Our job is now to make the best, finding purpose in what is left. It is a joy to live to fight and on that beach to fly two kites.
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