It’s a revolt.
And in the name of God, they are building
And delivering doctors,
Door to door.
They are conveying the message that,
And no one is forgotten.
Assistance is distributed fairly but cameras,
In some areas,
Are not welcome.
Someone hoists a burning American Flag that,
Must be made from something other than cloth,
Because it melts,
And the smoke is acrid,
And the sputtering fireballs,
Showering the crowd below,
Will scar beyond repair.
The woman who does not want to talk about it,
Has been warned.
She has been told,
And so, she must shut up.
And Tunisia, and Egypt, and Syria, and Libya,
Will have to keep hoping,
Is not a man in uniform,
♦picture – Radu Sighet for REUTERS♦
evocative short poetry – words move