https://images.hive.blog/DQmQJXKXhH9fCNn9zZ5HZPNGgPPRFsWGgLUtzLBD9aBn4oz/skyscrapers-450793_1280.jpg
[Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/search/rise%20up/)
From the basement of your breaking,
from the floor where you've been sleeping
from the tomb of who you were,
get up.
The earth is aware of this movement,
seeds sprouting through concrete,
flowers pushing through the clutches of winter, pressure-born mountains.
Rise like ashes from ashes,
like prayers from anguished lips,
like flags on revolutionary morning,
Like suns rejecting to set.
Your knees recall kneeling.
your back remembers the weight;
Your spine was made for lifting, though.
ascend
Not only standing,
not just survival; Still going past the place, though where they lowered your hope.
Rise like bread in ovens,
like balloons escaping youngsters,
like birds that have discovered their wings after a long trek.
The audience might repeat it.
the signals could paint it,
But increasing is a solo performance.
One vertebrae at a time.
Out of the ruins of your past,
from the ashes of their judgement,
from the depths you found
you were far deeper than you realized.
Stand up.
Get up.
Get up.
Until standing becomes your mantra,
until height is your nature,
Until gravity itself
learns to bend around your will.
The world was made for climbers.
For people who won't fall down:
for hearts that thump like hammers
against the low ceiling of the heavens.