Wed, 1 January 2020
I want to share this poem by Alberto Rios because I love it and I have a rooftop from which I can share it. A House Called Tomorrow You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen— And fifteen, bringing with you Everyone who has come before you, The mothers of your mother, If someone in your family tree was trouble, The bad do not win—not finally, We simply would not be here You are made, fundamentally, from the good. You are the breaking news of the century. Through it all, even if so many days When you as a child learned to speak, It’s that, from the centuries, you knew so many, From those centuries we human beings bring with us The river bridges and star charts and song harmonies That we can make a house called tomorrow. Is ourselves. And that’s all we need Look back only for as long as you must, Be good, then better. Write books. Cure disease. And those who came before you? When you hear thunder, Alberto Rios |