Battle Cry

Poetry is mute music.. I realized this when I was small and I have never been able to look back. In poetry, I find something that is just mine, and nobody else’s. I find emotions hidden beneath my own surface. Things I couldn’t see before, expressions I wouldn’t have discovered otherwise. But poetry exhibits a force of creation that I can reach out to, no matter what!

Zurich 2013, from Gudy @EclecticTrends, Instagram.

Don’t you be afraid to tell me

I’m standing on the cradle of a revolution

You see those birthmarks down below?

They are writing another history.

Mine and yours.

We’re brothers and sisters in arms.

Silent product of the stars

Wouldn’t you want to know me?

Why would you try to hate me?

We were born on the same page.

We were born through tumult

I was still a non-thing and yet

Wasn’t I a ‘something’?

I feel so ancient only because I was born on the summer wind.

Don’t you dare turn your back on me

I’m urging you to pick the battle cry.

Where were you last winter? I was holding up the fort alone.

Maybe you thought tears were just little diamonds

Something that needed to be felt.

So I bathed myself in them

Until I was afraid no more.

This revolt is just a whisper

Of the things that are yet to come.

Don’t hold back, breath them in

Let them shower you in emotion

This battle cry isn’t mine alone

Help me build an army.


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