In the night where the street lights buzz.
The smell of cooking still lingers.
A sharp word yelled through broken walls.
A slap.
A body hits the wall.
Silence.
Hear that?
Saturday night the lights of the city are a blur.
Running from a ghost a memory.
Fear propels relief into the vein.
Fear turns eyes away from truth.
Funny how the world doesn't fit into the story told.
A hollow cry for help.
Hear that?
There are sounds we want to hear.
The comfort of a familiar song.
The beat of rain up on the roof.
The thrill of children who are about to eat.
The words that tell us that we are wanted.
The abiding of love.
Hear that?
You and I can hear it.
How is it that so many can't?
What has happened to make pain invisible?
What story is more important to protect that it allows suffering?
Why are peace and prosperity only for a privileged few?
How can so many hope for so little for so many?
Hear that?
It's a sound that this President has never heard.
It's a beat that puts fear in the corrupt.
It's a solo voiced by knights of this republic that makes Evil run.
It's a chorus sung by the old, the young, the weak, the poor, the sick, the forgotten, the majority, by we the people.
It's the sound of justice coming right quick.
Hear that?
Peace.
DFrey
