• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 04

Morality seeking Solidarity

Marching boots pound the earth
the drum of my ear marks the beat
my cheek nudges my lips to a tremble.

I am standing up with the pink
as long as it takes.
My way for 'not my way'
in an honourable and dignified way.

My belly is fed full on hope, waiting
for the call, the banners and the boots

when I will plant my feet, bathed in first light,
in the soil of the dissenters.