We Are the Fire


We Are the Fire

By Aidan Zingler

Words pull push, agitate, infuriate
I’m the fury of the world not seen.
I beg, I cajole, I reason, I ask
I’m the pain of the dead not seen.
Time is running out, time is running

Black Lives burn bright and extinguish,
Stars howl their sorrow at their loss
Disabled flames smolder and fade,
Stars ignite their pain at their loss.
Indigenous fires frozen and scattered,
Stars blaze their fury at their loss.
Time is running out, time is running.

Should I be praying? Screaming?
Words sputter and fall silent.
Should I be running? Marching?
Actions lay the bricks, one by one.
Time is running out, time is running.

Can’t you stay with me tonight?
Can’t you march with me tonight?
Can’t you speak with me tonight?
Can’t you listen with me tonight?
I’ve been running and screaming,
the void itself weeps and howls,
the fury of the universe cuts deeps.
Time is running out, time is running.

I can hear them calling me at night.
The voices of the dead, the murdered.
They rise and march, they speak through us.
We stand, we chant, we weep, we march.
The wind blows our message to all ears.
We will not be silent, we will not cease.
Time is running out, time is running.

Words connect and build a bridge,
We’re the fury of the lives not seen
We demand, we tear down, we build
We’re the pain of the dead not seen.
Time is running out, time is running.

Time for us.
Our hearts on fire.
On fire for justice.
On fire for abolition.
On fire for a future free of oppression.
Time is running. We are building.
We are more than dust and sand.
We are the past, we are the future.
Let’s go.

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Categories: Author, disability, Feminism, Poetry, Race, transgender, WritingTags: , , , , , , , , , ,

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