"Brackish," A Poetry Post

It's all mixed in.

Lead in Flint's water.
Bodies in New Orleans' streets.
Drugs in Irvington,
Drugs and guns
everywhere.

Bodies filing out into
Chicago's streets in
human chains and
violent clashes.

Brackish, isn't it?
Bitter and bloodied,
salty and polluted,
murky,
dark and
flush with political
garbage.

Garbage in the well.
Garbage in the company room.
Garbage in the public space.
Trash.

The whole world's watching,
watching us
dipping in a cup and
drinking,
drinking from the sewage.

Drinking what we would not offer
to others...

Drinking what we would not allow
in other countries...

Up rises fresh water,
gushing from a spring
deep down in the ground from a
source we all remember.

"Flush out your hatred."
"Flush out your foolishness."
"Flush out your division."

Overcome the pollution.

Up from what we know.
We know to assemble.
We know to command respect.
We know our humanity.

Run down here now,
into the sludge you've dropped here.

Wade up to your waist and chest.

Let's work out the filtering in the
way we all remember.

We will take your trash and
throw it back
throw it back
throw it back.

We will take your trash and
throw it back.

We will regain our
freshwater.

-T. D. James-Moss