Longing is extinguished,
optimism fades;
the echo of heroism
is drowned out by bullets,
and the weeping that is unleashed
covers the ground with disdain.
Every step, a sway,
in this thankless dance.
But all is not lost,
the roots of love
sprout in the midst of horror,
and though the future is feared,
hands are stretched out, fertile,
and in every furrow we sow
the voices we claim,
invincible hopes.
