we stood tall;
free and unabridged
a testament to our youths

but when they called us down
we stayed standing
our height shrunk
wrinkles worn on torn porcelain
a graying of old stone

we grew fatter off decadent fruit
while caged animal fed on imprisoned others
and the minority was culled to a head
in internment camps
in privatized prisons
in the courts
and the legislator's building
in the very creation of the nation
stillborn at conception
an aborted fetus carried to term
delivered, to be chucked to the wayside
weened off the milk of a tormenting yearn
to make, to build, to think, and learn
but we stifle that now
in favor of rockets to fly
leaning toward oil to burn
will there be a scream when we die
or will this silence hold firm?

Swathed in a robe of scarlet snow
with a crown of raven thorns
and skin of ten moons
With her chin upturned, she ascends
With screams locked deep in her heart
None see her for who she truly is
For she is a goddess of stone
before she is mortal
Yet the one who could was now dust
the very one who had the key
to the heart of her Kingdom