The Prose

The joy of humanity,

They seem to have missed,

Telling those same old stories,

Where we fail to exist.

I want to see what you see.

Behind the shadow of your years.

Do you see yourself there?

Is that your worst fear?

What damage have they done,

Erasing our incoming-selves?

Ha, a family they have built,

Of big bad rebels.

In shaking the pain,

The decades of self doubt.

I’m ready, it’s time,

For THIS futures call-out

The joy of humanity,

We do not miss,

Telling our stories,

In which we exist.

(by Gem Barton 2022)