Reflections On Flashing Lights

You may wear the gold, you may hold the
steel, you may drive through nights with
flashing lights and storm each castle you
come upon with strength and rage, the name
of the gods at your command, throwing aside
those who ask you your purpose.

You may raise your voices and issue forth
a black river of glinting power, taking each
shadow by the neck and forcing them out into
the cold, deaf to the protests, the panic,
confusion, and anger.

Do you not, through your armored masks, feel
the way you charge upstream, against the souls
you promise to protect? We raise our voice
as one into the starry sky and sing, and dance,
and drink the nectar that flows sweet from
our joy, and we keep each other warm.

And we would shine our smile on you, mingle
our colored lights with yours, and laugh with
the din of your sirens, if only you would loosen
your fists, uncloud your eyes, and see that you
and we are the same:

We are spirits of the earth. And yet still we
hammer down upon each other.

It is not enough to survive, to go on living
these lives with a boiling sense of privilege.
We must prove that we deserve them. We must
be grateful. We must be at peace.