When shall we rise

I stood in the darkened shadows of the monument

Where features were carved in lifeless stone

The seated giant looked at me through the marble

And as if carrying the weight alone

He called out to me in a whisper

“I hear the calls of the poor and the sorry

I hear their shallow cries

And his voice calls ‘brothers, sisters?

When shall we rise?”

Around him is a greater, crumbling monument

Crushed under the weight of lies

He calls again, ‘brothers, sisters?

When shall we rise?”