Waited, with breath bated. Heard the news. Silenced, suffocated. Thought for one moment we could outrun, outrank the oppressor whose breath burns daily on our neck, but instead some named it a god whose violence and vengeance is trapped in the breast, cracking ribs in desperation, distress. There is no "fight stronger, try harder" than we've already engaged, but somehow we will do it anyway. Yes, we will surely find a way.
From the earth, from the shadows, from our roots She will rise. That day, oh that blessed day shall arrive!