WRITE THE WORLD REVIEW ARCHIVE

Our air has been poisoned;
polluted with particles we are advised not to breathe
(a virus, a plume of smoke, an empty can of tear gas).
Banners hang from broken windows like demands, like proclamations, like pleas for something better.
Hands that once felt too small to lift burdens
are now clenched into fists, clasped around protest signs
and intertwined with those of their neighbors.
Our cities are in ruins; saturated in gasoline and ignorance
(both equally destructive).
We live in a world where storms do not always come from the skies
but instead come in waves, in floods,
causing earthquakes with footsteps and thunder with tongues.
Escaping from solitude to paint slogans on bricks; shouting from sidewalks, chanting for change.

Blink the flames from your irises and carry on; because voices are best heard in unison.