By
"Don't move or I'll shoot!", he yelled down at me.
A terrified sixteen year old, what would I do?
Wasn't the police supposed to protect us?
Wasn't the government supposed to be on our side?
I could feel my cheeks warming, I wore a fierce blush.
Heart racing, the embers in my eyes, hard to hide.
From the corner of my blazing eye,
I glanced up at the sniper perched up high.
Heart heavy with my hopes and dreams for this town,
If he shoots at least I die a martyr to my cause.
Boiling rage within me, I look down.
Gradually, losing faith in this government and it's laws.
Empty gas shells strewn, vandalized cars.
Beyond this destruction, lies my passion for this land.
Sometimes I wonder, where is the fault in our stars
That we can't call our own, the ground where we stand.
Questions on my identity, a clamp down on my rights.
All we ever asked, a land to call our own.
Now, when I look at this town's shimmering lights.
I feel that passion burn, but we've learnt, we've grown.
All's not fair, I've learned. I still long for the day
When this town will call this land her own.
Now, sometimes, when I look back on that ill-fated day,
I'm glad I gathered courage to chose to walk away.
Stone-faced, the sniper put his muzzle down.
I think we both acknowledged our circumstances.
It's amazing how situations lead us to take chances.
It's amazing how the winds of change
Only every successfully stir our sails, in the most vulnerable of circumstances.