Oil and water aren’t supposed to mix,

but the rising tides smell of gasoline

and might just fuel our fires. We are

forced to draw new lines in the sand

a little farther up the dune each day, but

our voices carry over winds of change.

 

We are too young to grow up, but

here we are, risking arrest so earth

does not become a prison. We are

asking you to treat us with respect,

to see us for who you should really

be: we are asking you to grow up.

 

Come on! Wring your pockets dry

of oil and join us. Use your heart

with your voice and let it join ours

to start a movement. A green new deal

is on horizons ahead of us – just how

many is up to you. We need leadership,

 

and we want you to be on the cold front

of change. But if your pockets are still wet,

if you are submerged in the quicksand of tar,

then get out of the way. We do not have time

to wait for winds to gather themselves and

feed our fires. A storm is brewing, and a flood

will come: but we will not let it drown our flames.

​

​

​