When hammer falls, and nail
is driven deep in vein, piercing
those with hands to heaven, a raging
flow of protest stirs, and the dam’s crack
promises an empire’s dust. Tyrants fear,

as the heart reclaims fallen blood
its own, never again owed or again stolen,
never to be the red in crime scene canvas,
never to be spread on razor knuckled fist. The torch
under kindling of a people split

a thousand ways. Orchard now desert once orchard
and so on. The majesty as dam crater feels
the full weight of liberation against its baton.
A damned soul, in troubled waters,
finds the fault.

It is not anarchy when the river rages,
the razed earth
and starved roots
call it life and lives remembered.