Power

The officers despatched to control the protesters
sure seemed powerful, authoritative even.
They presented a united front,
in yellow-banded black helmets, visors down.
Armour covering stomach, shoulder, leg and back,
any semblance of humanity, covered.
To resemble a beetle.
Black, shiny and seemingly thoughtless. An empty shell:
hard plastic protecting nothing but tough bones and a set jaw.

They seemed unreal, an illusion, inhuman.
When compared to the protesters
who seemed to radiate even more power.
For a smooth black surface could not portray:

A defiance and unity
with the people around you
through set eyes and a tough lip. Eyebrows
raised in concern, for the fate that awaits you.
Standing shoulder to shoulder with a common goal. Not
to suppress a defiance to injustice,
but to show that flesh and wrinkle and clothing
resemble the power of the masses, the proletariat
Strength in numbers, not defence, is power. True power.