The Rebellion Ignites

It permeates the deepest woods;

an echo of the ancient cry

sent to rally forth the troops.

We link the chains across the land

as runners bring us messages

a marathon has taken place.

A call is carried on the wind;

the whisper of the dissident

expelled in softly puffing breaths.

Now we come upon the choice.

No time for mental wobbling.

When we refuse to speak our truth

and you refuse to hear my heart

we stand between the fragile glass

upon the stone that grinds the sand.

Denial echoes in the woods

and we a herd of sheep ashamed

to gaze upon the truth revealed.

When we listen to the clues

and hear the teeth

as traps spring shut

We leap.

In an impulse of consideration

we are a single heart and mind.

When the wise ones hear the call

that triggers pictures held beneath

the floorboards of their memories

where tiny bones of field mice

are buried deep within the cells.

Their subversive cross stitch

Shows us where to dig our trench

And how to plant the rebel flag.

It’s written in the fragile threads

And etched within the warp and weft

the mantle of a lantern floats.

A magazine and gasoline

Ignites.

Time suspended

All direction ends.

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This story also appears on Medium by Tree Langdon, the author.