Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

A box full of glowing heads

drones in the static

ghostly hands

reach from the television

yanking, grasping

at the tattered remains of hope

we are still holding

like a rope

even as the darkness is swirling

like a river of doubt

the voices remain, commanding

wailing like a siren

yet, joy is more than a feeling

and strength is more than these images

ordering us to fear

they may laugh and call us weak

but we are burning

alive, with the love that set fire to the universe

they may sneer and say that we’re fools

but we are turning away

from the whispers of despair

they may chuckle at our ideas of madness

but we are still dreaming of joy

even though joy defies all reason

I guess if they say that we’re a rebel

very well, then we’ll be proud to be one