On the coast by the tall white flame,
hydrogen whispered through the seams.
Reid, Victor, Christina, Jeremy
stepped back from the silver dream.
They said, not yet, not until it’s safe—
we’ll circle that pearl when it’s right.
Quarantine loosens, training hums,
we’ll fly when we can trust the night.
Sources:
Hold on to the thread in a world untied,
truth is heavy but it shines when tried.
Turn the lamps on every street and stage,
keep faith, keep watch, keep turning the page.
We’re louder together than the dark we face,
hold fast, hold kind, hold space.
A river of paper breaks the dam,
names like thunder scrawl the sky.
Power sits in the margins’ glow,
but justice says it’s passing by.
Victims’ doors left bare by hands
that swore to shield their names,
and far away, titles fall,
resignations echo blame.
Sources:
Hold on to the thread in a world untied,
truth is heavy but it shines when tried.
Turn the lamps on every street and stage,
keep faith, keep watch, keep turning the page.
We’re louder together than the dark we face,
hold fast, hold kind, hold space.
Kristi Noem says clip them on,
every badge with a second sight.
In Minneapolis, sirens ache—
a coroner called one death a fight
that shouldn’t have ended, not like that.
A child walked out with his dad at last.
Refugees with spotless hands
say cuffs came quick and hope came fast
with a lawsuit rising like a dawn.
They promise lenses, promise light.
Sources:
In Paris, doors gave way to boots,
the platform faced a storm of claims:
child abuse images and coded lies,
deepfakes in borrowed names,
denial dressed as speech itself,
and algorithms tilting scales.
They summoned voices at the top
to speak before the tales.
The platform called it theater, cruel,
the watchdogs crossed the sea,
and prosecutors signed off with a note:
we’ll speak where we are free.
Sources:
Hold on to the thread in a world untied,
truth is heavy but it shines when tried.
Turn the lamps on every street and stage,
keep faith, keep watch, keep turning the page.
We’re louder together than the dark we face,
hold fast, hold kind, hold space.
He stamped his name on the river’s hall
and promised walls reborn.
Said lock the doors for years to come,
tear down, reveal the form.
Artists took their bows elsewhere,
opera packed its scores.
Kin and Congress raised their hands,
asked who the temple’s for.
What of the symphony, what of the art,
what of the people’s place?
A promise of faster, finer things,
and a long, uncertain wait.
Sources:
A porch light burns in Tucson dusk,
a church bench kept a space.
The sheriff says she did not go,
that house a haunted place.
She walks not far but thinks so clear,
the bureau combs the lines.
They’re reading notes that smell of fear,
and watching for a sign.
Savannah left the bright world’s stage,
to stand with grief and pray.
A whisper: bring her safely home—
let love outshine the fray.
Sources:
Hold on to the thread in a world untied,
truth is heavy but it shines when tried.
Turn the lamps on every street and stage,
keep faith, keep watch, keep turning the page.
We’re louder together than the dark we face,
hold fast, hold kind, hold space.
Light the rockets, guard the names,
film the badges, break the chains,
raise the curtains, search the plains—
turn the lights on, lift our gaze.
We won’t look away, we won’t look away.
