Time Capsule

833 total words    

3 minutes of reading

In a hundred years forward of timelessness,
The next generations will unravel the DNA of this here and now
In a future time capsule
Of exes and whys.

The ones who we said we have been waiting for
Will have finally arrived,
Archeologists astounding at the sequoias of our planted histories
That rooted their new earth in blossom and created canopies for their becoming.
They will excavate this experience in a cradle of new life
In a hundred years forward of timelessness.

And they will want to know how we made it happen.

How on the cusp of crises colliding over the rim of this planet’s circumference,
At a time when scientists and spiritualists alike
Predicted the critical mass of crippled systems,
We managed to finally find ourselves in circle,
Dropping our firearms and joining our forearms in peace.

And it was then—
It was then that the wrapped ribbons of our flags
Appeared as a rainbow in the sky this time shining through the heavens
From the ground up, and just as we thought that all good things were coming to an end,
We were forced to begin again.

In a hundred years forward of timelessness,
What we hope to be able to tell them is that we finally did it.
We woke up, we woke up!
We discovered the insanity of supremacy
Was a toothless beggar with a billion dollar budget not enough,
Eating fear in a stick up at a fast food restaurant where we finally threw up our hands, Ketchup on our white napkins like blood on our surrender.

It was only then that we could see differences and diversities as gateways to growth, Cosmological opportunities for the enlargement of our own souls,
The dance of duality, the yin and yang, the language of all living things.

And by abiding these,

What we hope to be able to tell them is that we discovered the prodigal road
Back to Mother Nature was only right up the street,
Where she had banqueted us a feast from a soup kitchen in an urban food desert
Where we gave up the belly of our beasts. 

When our dollars couldn’t buy clean water
To compensate for the oil in our seas,
Or the deforestation of our trees,
Because even the air we breathe isn’t cheap
When oxygen needs to be freed.

In a hundred years forward of timelessness,
What we hope to be able to tell them is that eventually the property taxes
Upon the imprisonment of people bankrupt, unpayable.
In a hundred years forward of timelessness please let us be able to say
That the property taxes upon the imprisonment of people bankrupt, unpayable.
That the liens held against the souls of captors and captives alike warranted nothing.

It was all a sham, a circus, a side show to closet our own criminalized psyches
crowded with war tapes, crimes against humanity:
Auschwitz, Bosnia,
Cambodia, Darfur,
Haiti, Hiroshima,
Sudan, Syria,

Where the fingers in our frontal lobes pointed us guilty,
We took a lone trip to the quarter crescent moon of our hearts,
Which we found took longer than the launching we did into other outer spaces
But was much closer as we rocketed to the underbelly of our own shadows.

What we hope to be able to tell them is that it was there we too found ourselves
In a 12-step meeting on a Tuesday morning, shivering hands around chipped coffee cup,
Arms chock full of tracks marking the first time in history we came clean with ourselves;
Then we finally found the real use of our power in a paradox of powerlessness.

And it was then that we were able to handle other powers responsibly.
That with each technological advancement, our own human morality and imagination
Did not regress nor recede
But became the gifted seeds to heal all humanity.

In a hundred years forward of timelessness we will tell them
That our village became every visitor we would ever cross.

That we set ourselves free.
We brought our girls home from the prowl of predators.
We taught our boys it was ok to cry.
We proclaimed, “yes, love wins!”
And let those who wish to be called “they” be them.

What we hope to be able to tell them in a hundred years forward of timelessness
Is that we went home and began to teach our children,
Not just what to think but how to see and be aware—
That the cultivation of consciousness was the most ancient, always ever-expanding frontier. We taught them to find spaciousness in boredom.

This body, the campus of organs, is sacred geometry,
And we are the dance of the physical and the spiritual,
The poetry, the physics,
The music and the math;
The universe a reflection of the interior we already have.

In a hundred years forward of timelessness
What we hope to be able to tell them is that
“Yes, you were worth saving.”
So we decided to start with ourselves.

  • Manòn Voice

    Manòn Voice is a native of Indianapolis, Indiana, a multi-hyphenate--poet and writer, spoken word artist and filmmaker, actor, hip-hop emcee, educator, and community builder. The spirit of her work finds its niche at the intersection of arts and activism. She has performed on diverse stages across the country in the power of the word and has taught and facilitated writing and poetry workshops widely.

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