In Tunisia a man burns and a people quicken
the flame spreads to Egypt, Wisconsin
Wall Street, Santiago.
The minions of the towered Lords
attack, arrest, and capture;
blood flows. Some die. Jails
is killed by the media
but like a zombie rises,
unkillable. Massive forces array against
the tiny groups in every land
who, though fearful, stand.
Women and men, the youth and the grey,
Muslims covered and youth with naked piercing
veterans of wars who cry “no more,”
couples embracing, these straights and those gay,
No, no, you will not go,
you have better sense, you know
who wins; you wait and hide
in safe and indoor rooms
where camera eyes
watch every move—
they have that right, you know.
But you have none.
One day you will arise,
cast off the fear, that constant numb
death-in-life. Oh yes, you’ll rise!
One day you’ll rise, you’ll run
straight down the path to home—
that home you’ve never seen
a place for which you’ve longed,
and longed, your whole life’s dream,
though never spoken of