Resistance
In true-spirited
Resistance
the heart remains sweet
soft and pliable,
a fruit of all seasons.
But the mind turns inward
and ties itself into a knot
sits in motionless silence
like a bolted statue.
No marching down
streets like remote controlled
mannequins,
chanting soulful mantras
with rugged voices.
-That births no change.
We envision a brutalized mule
refusing to sip
at the stream
because it knows
to live is to die
and we become.
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