The Dawn We Bring

With voices like flint against steel,
we strike against the silence,
catching fire – not to burn, but to blaze a path forward.
We are not the dying cinders of something lost,
but the first furious glow of something rising.

If we fell, we fell like seeds, not stones,
buried but never broken,
splitting open beneath the weight of history,
rooting ourselves in the cracks of a world
that swore nothing could grow.

We bloom – not delicate, not meek,
but wild and defiant,
sunflowers breaking through concrete,
faces lifted toward a sky
that once turned its back on us.

We carry the weight of history like floodwater,
but we are not drowning, we’re reshaping the shores.
We spill over walls they swore would hold us,
we carve new rivers where no maps exist,
we refuse to be stopped, stay silent, hold still.

The wind calls us reckless,
but the trees know better.
Whispering our names through trembling leaves,
knowing we will not leave them behind.

If we rise, we rise like dawn,
not sudden, but certain,
spilling gold over everything that thought it could last forever
untouched, unchained, unchallenged.