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I said,
“They will burn it all down.”
“They would burn this nation to the ground
before they would relinquish
even a small part of their entitlements and privilege.
They would burn our children to ash
before they would outgrow their macho fantasies
and relinquish their guns.
They would burn every tree and creature to dust
before they would unclench their greedy hold
on their ill-gotten profits and their bought-off politicians.
They would burn every one of us at the stake
before they would let go of their comforting ignorance,
their familiar fears and their tribal hatreds.”
I replied,
“I know something of this burning,
but there are those
who live their entire lives under fire:
under surveillance and under suspicion;
underpaid, and under-resourced;
under occupation and under the thumb.”
When I feel the heat of the arsonists of democracy;
when I am tempted to capitulate in the face of burnout;
I hear the words of Dr. Angelou,
in defiance of the torch-lit mobs,
in a language of hope beyond reason;
"You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise."
I said,
“They may burn it all down,
but even ashes can rise.”
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