Thursday, November 29, 2018

I Refuse

the thistles assemble
beside the back gate
significantly taller than
the rhubarb plant they surround
they browbeat the herbs
prickly customers
they have nothing nice to say to the dandelions
but spew thorns

I refuse to be intimidated
though they tower above me
I stamp down on
the spade between their roots
dragging one way then another
they sway a little
then surrender unwillingly
sucking hard on the soil before lifting

those eager for power
assemble in fortresses
vastly richer than the crowd
they deem to protect
they browbeat the downtrodden
stubborn leaders
they refuse to acknowledge another side
but spit invective

I refuse to be intimidated
though they wield power over me
my spade stamped down - 
words spoken or written
work held to ransom
waiting in a queue to vote
I draw my lines in the sand
arms crossed I wait for their surrender

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