“One, to, free, for, five”
(Iraqi women’s lives?)
My daughter next to me
Can’t say the number three
Knows not my preoccupation
Swirling words in combination
Amidst the tension beating low
All around as if we know
A table turns as a tide will shift
This race is not just to the swift
Alignment of Spirits taking place
The worn out look on every face
We’re being called to be as One
The real Revolution has just begun
Some do whisper, some carry signs
Some write cursive bitter lines
Black on white is what it takes
To rectify this big mistake
Passive stand in complacent fashion
Offers but a slave-wage ration
Ready or not ‘cause here they come
Talking at you like you’re dumb
Better yet, their sleeping fool
Remote in hand with mouth a-drool
Stop accepting this head game beating
The lies and circles are not quite meeting
Six, seven, eight, nine, and ten
It’s basic math this tragic end.
Ciera S. Louise c. February 02, 2006