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.
