When the Streetlights Come On: A Poem on Standing up to Inequality
When the streetlights turn on And the asphalt is empty Who has really gotten to go home? Because while the bodies are no longer present And the feet no longer march forward Some hearts still walk to the sounds of sirens To them, the art of activism Is the art of survival Should a lone rabbit cease to worry about the lurking fox Just because the fox has concealed himself? There is no better time to worry about the race As when the commentators have lied about who is in first place When the squares come down And the news turns to disturbed illusions of peace Who has really gotten to go home...