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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.
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Camille Cechini is a poet of the Pacific Northwest residing just north of Seattle.
A stirring piece that exemplifies our fractured times.
Thanks for the read, Camille.
This was very powerful, Camille;
Next time tell us how you really feel.
“Stirred by talons, in helping hand’s disguise.”
“Sparked from recreant steel, the flint their guile—”
Brilliant!!!