Painting of Napoleon by Jacques Louis David‘The Blood of Revolution’ by Camille Cechini The Society January 30, 2022 Culture, Poetry 3 Comments . The Blood of Revolution The blood of revolution fills my veins; Of those who fought to sever tyrant’s chains, Of those whose voice of freedom wasn’t kept Silent as enslavèd justice wept. Of mothers who begat the strong and brave, Who begat my country with the blood they gave, Which within me always calmly flowed With leaders bound unto the righteous road. But oppression’s reign starts slowly and in silence, Then wields the words that mask the jaws of violence. Recruiting the faithless, testing will of the weak, Twisting truths the honest and noble seek, Infesting the world with pestilence of lies, Devouring power with crooked compromise. Those with our blood dripping from their hand, Who brandish power—on our graves they stand. Who slaughter, with a grin, the human right To the pursuit, and drown our will to fight In poisoned tides of injustice they devise— Stirred by talons, in helping hand’s disguise. They sever peace between us to divide; Sick us on ourselves with sordid pride, Relish gore of fellowships they rend— Children turn on parents, friend on friend. As corruption rises, so too the ghosts Of sons of liberty that my being hosts. Boils now their blood, and mine the same, As vile rulers kindle hatred’s flame; Sparked from recreant steel, the flint their guile— And all the slander they’re saying with a smile. And as their puppets dance, our rights dissolve, But the heart of revolution gains resolve. Long we lived in silence, long we stayed Within the shroud of darkness and obeyed. But silence has no place in overthrowing, So, hear us now—our voices ever growing, Impassioned with the anger of abuse, Those oppressed are tying torment’s noose. Look on us and see the growing rage Behold the cracks in your decaying cage. You tested true our thin threshold of pain, So grasp we now the throat of despot reign. This land was won in war; so to repeat— Again the battle ends in your defeat. . . Camille Cechini is a poet of the Pacific Northwest residing just north of Seattle. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. NOTE TO POETS: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. CODEC News:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 3 Responses Paul Freeman January 30, 2022 A stirring piece that exemplifies our fractured times. Thanks for the read, Camille. Reply C.B. Anderson January 31, 2022 This was very powerful, Camille; Next time tell us how you really feel. Reply Michael A Scott January 31, 2022 “Stirred by talons, in helping hand’s disguise.” “Sparked from recreant steel, the flint their guile—” Brilliant!!! Reply Leave a Reply to C.B. Anderson Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.