Numbers: Some Thoughts on the Umbrella Revolution

Poetically cryptic

The Cryptosphere

Umbrella Revolution Umbrella Revolution

The color of truth is gray.” – Andre Gide

I remember Tiananmen. The end

Was blood, and silence. I remember Tahrir
Square, the broken bones that do not mend,
And in Yangon, the monks who died at prayer.

I saw Wang Dan disappear down the dark,
Read Nay Phone Latt’s poetry of the oubliette,
Heard Alaa gasp between the street and the stars.
Hope is a sin, and the wages of sin is death.

Hope and change are like our blood and breath,
A slash can spill it all out on the ground
Or bleed it from us in a hissing froth,
But this is the wheel to which our hearts are bound.

Never be too blithe with your huzzahs
Lest the sound of guns be masked by your applause.

Curt Hopkins, Oregon, October 9, 2014

Numbers is a new weekly column by contrubutor

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