Woke, but Not Awake

Eyes wide, scrolling through the world,

nodding at outrage, liking outrage,

quoting wisdom that isn’t theirs—

but forgetting the reflection in the mirror.

They shout of systems, of power,

of justice, of wrongs unrighted,

yet trip over their own crumbs,

blind to the mess beneath their feet.

They sip their fair-trade coffee,

wear their slogans like armor,

and call themselves awake

while sleep lingers in their bones.

A voice whispers, soft as guilt:

“Woke is easy. Awake is hard.”

But the meme, the post, the performative flare

drowns out the simple truth of presence.

Perhaps one day the mirror will break,

and they’ll see: the world outside

cannot be mended

until the world within opens its eyes.