The young ones seem to know
that our world is threatened
is ways we not fully know
but fear all the same.
With each sunrise
another un-nerving surprise
until we are afraid to awaken,
afraid to open our eyes.
Not so, the young
for whom time moves slow
and each change is noted
and each move forward
is celebrated, not feared.
But, we, the old
whose breath is slowed
while time speeds away
know life becomes shorter
day by day;
even if the earth
should pass away.
It will not be without us long.
We are growing weaker
as the young grow strong.
So, we must listen
to their protest and shouts.
They understand better
what each bully tactic is about.
We pretend it is only intimidation.
In reality, it is annihilation;
the end of freedoms seldom known
in ages past. As time has flown
we old ones forgot to pay attention.
Now, the young, whom we also ignored
beg for our attention.
We are never too old to mother the young.
We are never too old to stop what has begun.
We may not be able to march so far as they.
But we can shout from each of our front doors.
We can organize, assist and earnestly pray.
We can honk as we pass the marchers on parade.
We can give courage to those who are afraid.
We can write and call those in charge of our fate.
Time passes quickly for us, but it is not too late.
annarino writes 