Protests rage in the city streets.
Participants play Prometheus and gift fire to human outrage
While others dawn primal masks and dance with the flames.
In a sea of covered faces, yours floats bare like a fetus in utero,
Delicate and unaware of the rapturous pain you will cause when you enter this world.
My lungs collapse as I re-trace my steps along centuries-old cobblestones.
I test my unsure footing upon cracks that modern mortar couldn’t fill–
desperate to stand firm upon the moment when you became the can of tear gas opened beneath bitter darkness–
I choke on unspoken sentiments that wailing sirens and flashing lights outnumber
because I cannot be an innocent bystander