Moving shapes, moving ideas- all consisting of
social relations involving authority
or power. Their minds are
running numbers, counting steps and
every fluctuation of the systems they surround themselves with.
The numbers equate somehow to colors and
somehow to hope and
somehow to the logic of         us.
The collective,
the silent moving voice.

Suddenly we are all singing.
We are mourning our dead but
watch us
as we all fight for our futures.
               Ours.
Our flat feet meet only concrete but
we reach downwards, call for home,
cry salty tears for the earth that makes us air,
makes us food,
make us love.
We love, and now we rejoice together for hope,
in numbers. In such great numbers.