We are all combatants
Grievances like grenades
Hung from our belts;
Bandoliers of slights
Slung across our chests
Packing full magazines of injured pride
Always one round in the chamber
One restless finger on the trigger.
Freedom fighters, we would call ourselves,
Taking arms against the endless tyranny
Of bosses, teachers, cops, the council,
Everyone ahead of us
In every queue we ever join,
Each car, bus, truck or bicycle
We find themselves behind.
Never drop your guard:
The enemy is everywhere.
No armistice for us, it seems;
No treaties signed, no DMZ
No ceasefire called, no peace declared;
No silence falling on the field.
We’re too far gone, entrenched too deep
The lines we hold are drawn in blood.
We promise to remember them
But what would those who went before
Make of the wars we fight today?