The Song Continues
A Poem of Pride
Sylvia danced in ritual
Getting ready to march off to war,
And Marsha threw a brick
While Stormè dropped a
Nickel in the jukebox
To hear young Judy sing
About the dreams we dare
To dream coming true.
Every revolution needs a ballad,
And every movement a soundtrack.
The first pride was a riot
Of batons, fists, heels, and hope;
Of songs overpowering sirens.
Eight hand-sewn stripes made the first flag.
Colors and communities stitched together,
Bursting at the seams with love and rage.
Now the rights we have been afforded
Are watered-down compromises
Protecting a part and never the whole.
And after corporations who fund discrimination laws
While throwing multicolored beads
have cleared the streets,
Who is left but us,
holding each other’s hands,
And holding each other up?
They would have us forget
Our hearts are muscles
The size of our fists, and
Every day of existence
Is an act of resistance.
But scrape a little glitter off the surface
To glimpse stories of those who
Will not be forgotten,
And a future that continues to be written
In a rainbow of rebellion.
About the author
As an artist and a writer, I love pulling strands of folklore into our current world, imagining what could be, and paying respect to the past.
Visit me at ColleenBorstConsulting.com or etsy.com/shop/ModernHexology
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Original narrative & well developed characters
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions