Talk to me when the sky has darkened the sun
When rivers run dry and when there are none
Who can roll back the time when flowers remain,
And everywhere looks like a deserted plain
Talk to me when no woman can choose
What to wear, who to marry, her rights to vote,
and even her body she will loose
How many children can she birth is
now for her the legacy he chooses
Peoples of all colour sold again as slaves
Hard graft and whippings from cradles to graves
Weapons in the hands of wrong-minded men
created from years of believing the south will rise again
He says, “do away with computers, the media is a lie,
the klan are very good people just like you and I”
“I will give you your desires if you follow me,
you will have your coal, your jobs, your oil while we
take away rights, privileges, social security
and let them beg for mercy by taking the knee”
“And talking of knees, you can’t breathe? Just wait
You haven’t seen enough of my hate
It infiltrates beyond all I create”
Talk to me when we are beside of Democracy’s grave
Did you try enough? Did you fight hard enough? Were
You truly brave?
None of us were, if we are now here.
~Bella, 2021
~Lexi, artist, 2021