Through the night.
Her quiet heart of revolution
Beats with many million more.
Their harmony of dreams is
Bloody freedom pumping,
Awakening the oily desert lung.
They are the rock and know,
Guns ranting full of hate,
Send messages of waste and loss.
Dictators destroy and devastate.
Women live to generate and grow.
The cost of life is not in bread.
It will be counted over years,
When she adds another number
To the glorious dead.
© Will Barton 2011 Click on images to enlarge