“Amygdala”

With revolution on your tongue

you tell me

you’re tired

But

I look into your eyes

and i know.

I know

it is not the kind of tired that sleep

can fix.

It is the kind of exhaustion that is passed down generationally

The mark of suffering

And oppression

that links you to your great great great grandmother

and the sugar cane on that island

you hold so dear

Perhaps it binds you to the scars

on her hands

the beating, draining heat of the sun

who on every occasion gives life

it is conditional.

But you

You, who is tired

and weeping and

cannot see rest for miles through those glossy eyes

You

a stronghold

una fortaleza

This crusade on injustice will guide you to victory.

From above you will look down

as they have for centuries

And we will be triumphant.