A poem for No Kings
We are a woven fabric
Of dreams
Disappointments
Despairs
Devotions
Determinations
The good never rinses away the bad; they are two halves of a life.
Bent, not broken
Belief, not burden
There’s no telescope into what happens next,
but we can’t wait for it.
We cannot hold our hope in hierarchy,
that someone else will point the stars in another direction.
After all, we are all made of stars,
the dust from the heavens.
It didn’t burn through the universe to make us into statues.
We are alive, but brandished by the brute with no benediction for the brave.
But you are so bold to stand when it’s easier to break.
A brutality against all our souls of stars sears us all with the same scar.
Heal, we can.
Hope, we will.
Humanity, we are.
So, when they ask
What kind of world do you want to live in?
An enormous question that
Jolts your heart to your throat
Closes your eyes to dream of
Something
That calls all souls of stars
A million moments make up this movement
And what we stand against is far smaller than
What we stand for
Decency and humanity may seem like a distant echo
But you’ve got more power than you can imagine.
And when we stand and demand
Our response is not hollow
It’s the desire
That the promises and ideals
Laid out 250 years ago
Actually become realized
One day will not change the world
One day does not erase the damage or erode disillusionment
But it can change each of you
It’s a spark
And you will never set a fire
Without all of us uniting and igniting
Are we going to move forward
As defiant, determined, and devoted to each other?
Or will we be consumed by apathy and anguish?
This choice is ours
This movement is ours
This country is ours
This freedom is ours