Chaos and disorder will not always be rampant in our streets
We will not always find ourselves with our backs against the wall.
Indeed the land must drink its share of innocent blood
But the day will come when that cup will run dry.
We must know what our time demands of us;
Are we the ones to curb the destruction and stop the rot?
Or will history record us as the victims of yet another ruthless regime
And the songs of freedom to be sung only by another generation?
What will our story be?
Not all of us will get to overthrow our oppressors
Or cast down the proud and mighty;
For they have an allotted time to ravage, to pillage, to rape
But not always.
A time will come when the skies have had their fill
Of our cries of despair and frustration.
When our eyes can no longer shed tears
When the quaking fear of oppressed hearts
Is replaced with a fear of what we will become if this does not stop.
We will not always be afraid of them.
The day is coming
When the devourer will devour no more
When our lives will count for something
When our dignity will be restored.
You may be able to ignore us,
And keep us afraid.
For a season.
But if there is anything history has taught us at all
It is that no people can be oppressed for all generations.
If not us, then others shall rise to the occasion.
You cannot always win
You will not always eat.
People can only endure for some time
But be assured that this will not always be the case.
No. Not always.