Hold Your Hand High
You stand there, hand raised, blank stare, that ‘I don’t give a damn’ smirk scrawled across your face. Nostrils flare when you realize I stand here. No no-good, condescending, ‘coulda been better than this’, is gonna stand in my way.
You see, something you don’t understand about me is I don’t need you. I have hundreds of eyes on my back waiting for me to give the signal. Waiting until you least expect it. I have nineteen years of hate on my side. Motherless children and childrenless mothers are marching upon your gates as we speak, each hoping they wield the knife that is embedded in your chest... Heart stops.
And we dance in the rain; drops of what was once the salty tears of a mothers heartache is now a crimson shower of the blood that is pulsing through your veins at this very moment.
We build this uprising on hate and pain alone. Never has a word of fear crossed our lips, all chanting your name, lusting for your blood.
I hope you realize that we stand here today, united. And for that I must thank you. Without you we would never give a passerby a nod of understanding, never fall to our knees at the death of a stranger, our brother. But we’re here now. And I don’t know about you but my knees are bloodied and scared from all the time I have spent on the ground but I still have enough strength and pride to stand up and fight.
And after the dust clears, after it is certain the last breath has escaped your lungs, I will rejoice with my brothers.
So go ahead, hold your hand high.
Login or register to post a comment.