Revolution

The day, as it began
Showed no promise to be different,
The oppressed, ill fated souls watched
Another sun rising from the east,
Tearing up the darkness,
Little they knew-
It, for once, was meant to be destiny.

The guns never gave up
Obstinate roars,
With mere glimpses of hope,
The never ending attempt
For resistance
Was falling apart,
When completely lifeless objects
Claimed lives.

Voices,
Choked in hunger,
Spoke out;
Crumbling legs
Stood up,
The stir spread like fire and swept everything on its way;
No one cried from
Anguish, loss or disillusionment
Anymore,
Tears spilled in joy
When the years of servitude
Was beginning to end.

The day was different
For those
Who lived to see the end of it.


I am linking this poem to Dversepoets OpenLinkNight, Week 45. You can also participate every Tuesdays, 3 PM EST and read some wonderful poetry.

I would like to know what you think about this :