This is by Kyle “Guante” Tran Myhre and is part of a longer prose poem called, “To Throw a Wrench in the Blood Machine.”  That last line–let it motivate you:

Voting As Fire Extinguisher

When the haunted house catches fire:
a moment of indecision.

The house was, after all, built on bones,
and blood, and bad intentions.

Everyone who enters the house feels
that overwhelming dread, the evil
that perhaps only fire can purge.

It’s tempting to just let it burn.
And then I remember that there are children inside.

After the full poem, the author adds “additional commentary,” which includes this realistic look at how things are (and why voting still matters):

We already know that status-quo loving liberals aren’t going to save us. But for organizers, having a status-quo loving liberal in office is materially different than having an open fascist–especially when it comes to trans rights, reproductive justice, climate, and other issues where there is real daylight between the two otherwise-aligned capitalist parties. Elections aren’t just about choosing your allies; they can also be about choosing your opponents.

I saw this on the Poetry Is Not A Luxury Instagram and it really hit me: I, too, was an indoor child, and “I never wondered. I read.” This is by Dorianne Laux.

Moon in the Window

I wish I could say I was the kind of child
who watched the moon from her window,
would turn toward it and wonder.
I never wondered. I read. Dark signs
that crawled toward the edge of the page.
It took me years to grow a heart
from paper and glue. All I had
was a flashlight, bright as the moon,
a white hole blazing beneath the sheets.