Devon Webb

On The Morning of  The Revolution

On the morning of the revolution
my mother makes my bed for me
as if it is important to be comfortable
when falling asleep in the ashes of a dying world.
She takes my bullets
and hides them on the highest shelf out of fear
so I spit out a couple more
and baptise them with poetry
giving them all names
like the children who may or may not live here.
When I was younger
I did not expect to be fighting wars
I did not expect to be the generation
that has to dig in their nails
and scream for some kind of survival.
We are watching you
on your high high chairs
where you sit like infants
oblivious to Mother Nature’s tears
and the rivers of oil and blood
that stain us
that stain you
whether or not you notice it.
Have you looked in a mirror lately?
Have you realised that you are not invincible?
Have you heard the world crying?
Have you seen the oceans rising?
Have you taught yourself to swim?
Because I think it’s time you learnt.

Devon Webb is a 25-year-old writer based in Aotearoa New Zealand. She writes full-time, exploring themes of femininity, vulnerability, anti-capitalism & neurodivergence. She shares her poetry online, through live performance, & has had her work included in over forty publications worldwide. She is an in-house writer for Erato Magazine, an editor for Prismatica Press, & is currently working on the final edits of her debut novel, The Acid Mile. She can be found on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok & Bluesky at @devonwebbnz.