Burden and Blood

Poem By: Jade Leon / Graphic By: Adriel Malaca

The poppies of gold conjoin a sea of strangers.

A story of heroes, the musk of humanity sings.

The fewer, for the most.

The brave and the bruised

take their course upon the land they intended free.

The hedges and their skin

they have fought for what is now fallen. 

Freedom isn’t sweet;

weakness isn’t for the bold.

It’s used for tears, for cries, and for fear. 

What do you wear? 

A sheep's cloak.

A tiger's mane.

Our voice is subtle

it’s feeble to the depraved brains.

We’re gracious granddaughters and sons

who bow a head,

hold a praying hand,

and share a cry.

At the tomb, in a field of foliage,

purple hearts to pumping and red. 

Nothing’s out of revenge. 

Only out of soul, out of pain. 

And a question of what have we gained? 

The blade is drawn.

The voice is cracked.

A summer's night. 

We are pushed beyond the mist

Cradled by the wrinkled and numb

Look at what the depraved have done. 

Crackled and disturbed 

Call it home 

But it doesn’t stand 

Calluses on hands 

Uncover the mask, you'll see our broken bonds. 

Call it freedom, but refuse to pass it on? 

Dismal and Desensitized

Disturbed by the silence 

They’ve walked across this country with a torch and a rope

A flame to a root 

On soiled land that bleeds tears.

Are you uncomfortable yet? 

With judgment and fear in our eyes 

Intimidation tracks us down 

Hunts us like spies

Thankful but yet despite 

A rattlesnake can chime

But remember, it still has a bite.

A country of hope 

A land of dreams 

Fought for the people 

And yet, it's no longer for the people.

The candle is blown 

The stampede stings 

Scars of stars 

Now represents the tethered throat.

Are you uncomfortable yet? 

Disappointed by the new truth. 

Burdened by the depraved throne. 

Conflicted by the blood.