Resistance is a Red Flag

A poem

Resistance is a red flag.

It’s the person in the corner waving to get our attention.

The sign on the beach that surf’s up.

The dog who stands outside the screen-door at the kitchen, woofing softly to be let in.

Resistance is the part that points us in the right direction all the while misdirecting us.

Resistance feels like fear,

Or sadness,

Or ennui.

Resistance can be the thing we dive into or shove aside.

It’s the signal to walk towards, or away.

It can be what drives us forward and holds us back.

Resistance is flexible, wily and purpose-driven.

Resistance can feel like all the fears of a five-yr old wrapped up.

One gigantic monster in the closet

Hiding under the bed

Resistance peers out with a hairy eyeball

A groping hand closing around that first ankle

Resistance can be the Berlin Wall

Dividing two sides of the same country or,

Removed crumbling brick by brick

Whole chunks knocked out with the swing of an sledgehammer.

Resistance can tear like paper or hold water as a cup

Whatever form resistance takes, we choose

Whether to ask the guy with the flag “what’s happening here”?

To dive into the ocean of fear or drown in the waves.

We choose to climb the mountain, face the monster or fell the wall.

We choose to choose.

When we recognise that resistance is a red flag.