 |
|
 |
| Her People by © moon_grace A house of glass does Fracture and splinter -- Shards Hurled into a mighty wind. Steel does twist and crumple In a rumble of opaque clouds. But No house of glass surrounds these hearts, No steeled resolve disintegrates here. We are Her People. Juxtaposed Between apprehension and defiance- A Voice Rings from collective hearts, A throng of thunder In the silence of the arrow Taut and notched By the luminescence Of candlelight And headlights. We are Her People. Nervous and inexperienced We do not take to our beds with coverlets. Yes, longing for home of "yesterday" And the gentle feather’s fall- But we stand refusing To concede In this immense abyss of change. We are Her People. Shadowed by fowl circumstance No longer untouched. Cautious, not conciliatory Red, yellow, black and white- We are employed and occupied With the sharp lyrical notes Of Liberty expressed. We sing. We sing Her song of Strength transcending The transformation of trappings (Those are only a change of clothes) We are Her People. Her People, Bloodied not obliterated- Reflective not fragmented. Transformed but undaunted. We are Her People. ~moon_grace. |
 |
|
|
|