In days to come,
what stories shall we tell?
Of towns and cities
that used to swing,
but swing no more.
Or of the bones and flesh,
with faces and muscles,
and blood on their hands.
And life running
through their fingers.
Who carried freedom’s
banner high, giving their
all to the very end.
To break the strangling
bears thrall.
This is the story
that will live forever.
A Wandering Poet 