Again they marched through Minneapolis streets,
Against the cold blue glare of Operation Metro Surge.
Renee Good, Alex Pretti carried in the chants,
A strike of silence called across the land.
From Los Angeles to New York and Boston bells,
Some met the cuffs, some met the push—still they yelled.
Sources:
Hold the line, light the night,
From courthouse steps to harbor tide.
Keep your hand in mine, we’ll be alright,
The world is shaking, but we won’t hide.
In Los Angeles, bright lights turned to sirens by the stage,
Don Lemon pulled from the crowd by federal hands.
Charged for the story he told at Cities Church in St. Paul,
About a protest that tested prayer and protest halls.
“I will not be silenced,” he said to the cameras’ glare—
Rights to worship, rights to speak, both laid bare.
Sources:
Hold the line, light the night,
From courthouse steps to harbor tide.
Keep your hand in mine, we’ll be alright,
The world is shaking, but we won’t hide.
Past the midnight bell, doors hissed shut in D.C.,
Defense, state, treasury, health gone dim.
The Senate stitched a bridge, the House stayed away,
A split deal with the White House to buy a breath for homeland debate.
Hakeem Jeffries said no fast track on this ride—
The stall could linger like a winter tide.
Sources:
Hold the line, light the night,
From courthouse steps to harbor tide.
Keep your hand in mine, we’ll be alright,
The world is shaking, but we won’t hide.
At the Strait of Hormuz, the Guards write fire on the sea,
U.S. steel on the horizon, the Lincoln cutting deep.
A “massive armada,” said Trump to the wind,
CENTCOM warning, don’t churn the water thin.
Inside Iran the toll of protest weighs like stone,
While neighbors hustle prayers through a diplomat’s phone.
Sources:
Hold the line, light the night,
From courthouse steps to harbor tide.
Keep your hand in mine, we’ll be alright,
The world is shaking, but we won’t hide.
A word from the Kremlin to Trump: pause the bombs over Kyiv,
To make room for talks while blackouts blur the eve.
Zelensky cautious—no ceasefire inked, no direct line,
Just a brittle promise in a frost-bit time.
The hush is short, the nights still long,
Faint sparks trying to warm a city’s song.
Sources:
Hold the line, light the night,
From courthouse steps to harbor tide.
Keep your hand in mine, we’ll be alright,
The world is shaking, but we won’t hide.
In Pretoria they stamped a passport: you must go,
Persona non grata for the envoy from Jerusalem’s row.
Insults at Ramaphosa from official lines, unannounced visits too,
Then Israel answered—sent South Africa’s voice from Palestine through.
Since The Hague heard Gaza’s cry, the rift’s grown wide,
Washington watching with a tightening stride.
Sources:
Hold the line, light the night,
From courthouse steps to harbor tide.
Raise your phones like lanterns bright,
Let the straits and embassies hear our side.
Bang on the rails, let sirens harmonize,
From shuttered halls to winter skies.
We are memory, we are spark, we are the fight—
Hold the line, light the night—till dark breaks into light.
