We wander through a sorrowful harvest:
one that leaves the survivors
between two worlds.

We listen to the shouts of angry men:
voices without compassion
driven by unseen motivation.

They guide us down a Darwinian path:
choosing a culling
that does not come for them.

They push us into divided skirmish:
conquering and feeding
their own dark desires.

What profit, what pleasure
drives these men to seek our death?

What church, what faith
cloaks their soullessness in favor?

We hold fast to life through a sorrowful harvest:
left to fall, wither, or falter
by the tax collector’s brethren.

We hold fast to each other against these angry men:
every day, every speech, every callous action
one step closer to revolution. ~ Caroline A. Slee