Soft Revolution, Even Softer Voices

We are what’s left of the cities
full of small people and bigger shrines
and laughter that reached higher
than the heavens, fires burned
but we burned brighter and
no one could say that this was the end.
we are soft revolutionaries, mouths
full of flesh and hands full of apologies.

We are what’s left of the sky,
plants growing through our bones
and we shoulder the weight of
still living in hopes we’ll find another
place without violent revolutions.
We have souls like water, soft hearts
under hard fingers, stronger fingers.

We didn’t ask for this, but here
we stand. We are what’s left of
the unstable voices, shaken and angry,
left alone in the dark rooms, we
can stand but our knees shake
We stand for what’s left, we are what’s
left.

By Cait Potter

Cait Potter is an emerging artist and writer set on giving voice to the ideas stuck inside their head. Their work focuses on softness and surviving.