Photo by Markus Spiske
Quicksand
Veronica Zora Kirin
The beauty of quicksand is
nothing rigid stands upon it
Institutions and bloated buildings
sink quickly in its depths
It moves what is cracked and broken
reducing what no longer works
The beauty of quicksand is
anything is possible where the ground moves
What no longer serves, sinks
old ways forced to evolve or drown
Voices once suppressed are heard
for a suppression machine never floats
The beauty of quicksand is
it doesn’t matter where it starts
or how. Once begun it spreads
to all corners like quicksilver
unstoppable. Denial doesn’t stop it.
A blind eye doesn’t stop it.
Each has a choice
to sink or swim, to float or flee
to ride the tide of change
or be lost beneath its depths
Veronica Zora Kirin
The beauty of quicksand is
nothing rigid stands upon it
Institutions and bloated buildings
sink quickly in its depths
It moves what is cracked and broken
reducing what no longer works
The beauty of quicksand is
anything is possible where the ground moves
What no longer serves, sinks
old ways forced to evolve or drown
Voices once suppressed are heard
for a suppression machine never floats
The beauty of quicksand is
it doesn’t matter where it starts
or how. Once begun it spreads
to all corners like quicksilver
unstoppable. Denial doesn’t stop it.
A blind eye doesn’t stop it.
Each has a choice
to sink or swim, to float or flee
to ride the tide of change
or be lost beneath its depths