“Resist much, obey little”
-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
The puce flame piercing eternal darkness,
prayers course through the worn-down streets
as grieving hordes migrate towards peacefulness,
fleeing the place they once called home.
The bombs detonating in the distance
skyline collapsing into the soil.
Food and water spread throughout the cluster
hunger overpowering all senses.
Gunshots blaring from the television
fighting against the foreign invaders,
outcries opposing the autocratic
dictator to seize their former homeland.
They will not stand the abuse thrown their way
uniting to defeat the motherland
