Amber Waves
These amber words preserved in time
Our fates meticulously mapped
Torn pages bound in strings of twine
The gift of sight so neatly wrapped
In bows stained red by foe and friend
Lives destined to be shed again
If only we’d pressed ears to ground
To hear the sounds of battles won
By weak and weary hands so worn
From birth until their final hours
Extracted power from their pain
A lighthouse kept with one small flame
And scripts burned onto parchment page
They showed us how this story ends
So that we could begin again
Instead we choose to close our eyes
To weep and still avoid to wake
Against the rise of that which takes
All that we desperately wish to keep
Ensuring history repeats
And when we cry for all they stole,
In graves the dead will slowly roll,
Extolling that they told us so.
- Christina Q.
