the carvings in the stone had been covered
by the green of dew, the green of nature
trying to soften the blows
of injustice, insecurity, insurrection,
there
was more peace when the dates were hidden.
you couldn't see how young,
how green they had been
barely in the summer of their lives,
barely past the April showers
sitting squarely in May flowers -
staying awake through the longest day of the year
swirling through the solstice in clouds of laughter
only to lose in a second
what they had fought for centuries to find.
the bystanders hold their breath, as if their own cessation of inhalation can give those who are breathless one more exhale to say
to their mothers and their lovers and their friends and their brothers -
something. anything.
the bystanders let go of their breath
nothing has changed except the concrete
stained
red.
shouting replaces silence
