The shriek tore open the void

Like lightening rips a dark sky

Like a million souls unleashing the scream of a thousand years

That carries the wounded rage of us.

Did you see them?

The faces.

Eyes teared and bloody

Both soft and angry with the weight of all these sorrows

And searing with weariness.

Searing with weariness that the rising must come again.

Who will place an ear to your lips to welcome the whisper?

Whose hand to reach for yours?

Who will stand?

Who will witness?

Who will hear?

Who will speak?

The rising must come again.