We stare upon a hydra-headed dragon,
hearts gripped in fear, sorrow, and grief—
heartbroken,
terrified.
Its claws sink into the earth,
ripping ancient trees from the ground.
Its breath wilts wildflowers
miles away.
One head summons roaches—
Blind, armored soldiers—
raiding our cities.
One head summons locusts—
rotor-bladed wings,
tearing through sky and village,
As a mother covers her crying child’s ears.
They feast—
devouring the lands of others
as if entitled by birth.
One head poisons rivers,
laughing as children grow sick.
One head chants holy verses
while wielding weapons.
One head builds walls
Shouting this land is mine!
One head signs death warrants,
Indentured without due process
Consigns to labor camps.
One head rewrites truth with silver ink,
Erasing history and remembrance in a single sweep.
Another laughs at pain.
And beneath it all,
the hydra loves gold—
its eyes gleam for lithium,
for copper,
for silver and digital coin.
It piles metals high in its hoard,
never satiated.
Some churches cry in greedy delight,
This is our savior!
Claiming this is the chosen one!
Blinded worshippers,
Cast tithe into fire,
Yearning for death,
Chanting—
This is the end times.
But—
we are not alone.
We weep in sacred protest.
We are not numb.
Our hearts are awake.
We move—
not with blind rage,
but with clarity,
with courage,
with deep-rooted soul.
We move with something more dangerous
than fire,
more powerful than swords,
more alarming to dragons—
we move with love.
And love
is having the courage to stand
and say no.
Love is rising
with the drumbeat of the earth.
Love is moving
as one.
Connected.
Feeling each other’s pain.
Sharing it.
For when we are together,
we have the strength
of millions.
And beware—this hydra is not the only beast.
Others slither in shadow.
Some wear crowns,
others reside in screens,
and some wrap flags around their teeth.
But none can thrive
where love awakens.
Still, under ash-streaked stars,
The nightjar sings—
A quiet spell,
Unseen,
Un-devoured,
Untouched.