Speak Ye Poets

The rose demands
the light on her neck reveals her skin
and the rose demands
Her hands are the gold
to hold her hands in your hands is wealth
but
the rose demands
Save me
save my people
from the tyrant
the rose commands
speak ye poets
let your voice be the wind
in a dark forest
be the single acorn
dropping to the ground
and growing there
until there is a new forest
your heart is not in your
left hand
not in your right
your heart is beside the lungs which
speak, scream, write
for peace
for sanity
for
love
Speak!