YOU ARE HERE 🎯 This isn’t a poem about: “the future”— it’s about the child at the border fence, fingers curled through chain-link, waiting for a parent already loaded onto a bus heading elsewhere. This isn’t a poem about: what’s coming— it’s about the earth burning itself, glaciers calving into oceans; while we argue whether science is a matter of opinions or politics. Today is a luxury we pretend still exists—while everything we feared might happen is already here. So, I stop asking why we’re still calling it “the distant future.”

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YOU ARE HERE 🎯

This isn’t a poem about:
“the future”—
it’s about the child at the
border fence, fingers curled
through chain-link, waiting for
a parent already loaded onto
a bus heading elsewhere.

This isn’t a poem about: ⤵️