Written by Ida Grey
They come for the concept
before they come for the people.
They grasp onto the ideology
that let them invent archways
out of rivers of blood.
Soon they start bathing
in massacres and calling it
freedom. Words are words are
words, until they are stacked on
top of each other neatly enough
to be the blade slitting your throat.
Until the very ground you swore
to protect crumbles under the
weight of all your shining armour.
Hold your hands up to the light
and ask yourselves:
How many more fences
do we have to build before
we deem it acceptable to let
liberty out of her chains?
Text © Ida Grey

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