An Ode To The March

Women's March

Although the past did not contain

A screaming, wailing against the storm

I found myself at tip-toe rest

Near the center of the hurricane

 

We wailed! Countless voices

Screaming out a breath of wind

So  much, so fast

It had to spin!

 

It wailed! He could not see

He’s deaf, he’s blind, he’s lost at sea

In the middle of the hurricane

He has no choice but to ride the wind

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