Poetry by Jessica Scott
watching them, watching us
fighting to try, to see beyond the pain,
marking the line in between
waiting for the first to make a move
we begin only to stop for the rain.
Then they come, demons on the wind,
and we crouch with shields above
as the dead on cold ground are lain.
Thunder roars and we meet them,
blood pounding in our veins,
and so we begin learning how to dance
in between the rain.
Voices ignored as men drown out,
their Lilliputian minds closed to the sun
we defend them, too,
though cases reversed we’d hang,
but we still have to try to hold back the flood
until our dying breaths say “we’re done”.
For freedom means more than miniscule men,
and someday they’ll realize we did this for them,
with nothing more than liberty our gain
we tried to teach them how to dance…
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