The Poet

You may poison our wells;
We will resist.
You may break our bones;
Resist we must.
You may bulldoze our homes,
We will resist.

We will resist
To the last drop of our blood,
Once the seeds of freedom
Have been planted in blood.
The winds of freedom
Will blow these seeds
Into your wicked heart.

You may throw our bones into a barren desert.
They will sprout forth a beautiful rose,
Whose vines will strangle the enemies of the sun,
Those who
Plunder,
Rape,
And murder.