beyond borders, breaking waves, your bravery
supposedly rescued me but what’s done well
like your steak standing up on its plate
taking it like a true soldier, bleeding
crimson maps of where we’ve been
what we’ve conquered or been devoured by
systems that flower by inequality’s growth
and our alibi it cowers by societies smoke
this is not a joke and, if it is
we’re not in on it– outside looking
shut up. wake up. we’re here.
shut up. wake up. my dear.
raise yourself up and fear less
we hear you, meet you in the middle
playing my golden brown fiddle
beating the devil to the cake today
sweet eats that feed and keep
the bad at bay– do you ascend
coz I fly, I swoop, I swing, I sing,
I want you to toe the clouds with me, exploring everything
up there down here anywhere
beyond borders, beyond bank accounts
beyond the last chance
to find the next one.
— Crimson Maps by Jonathan B. Tucker & Gowri Koneswaran
JBT 