.

Huddled

We bustle

putting posters together

We light missionary candles

pass them to allies

or offer them to wondering eyes

But they are no match

for the Saints

Tall

Bright

Fae lighthouses in the smog

Walking by

The smoggy street’s people

Stop and question why we have gathered

why we’re so swept up

in what is only (to them) in newspapers

or on phone screens

But

The Saints

They guide them in to understand why

Here

we’re cheering

Cheering loud enough to carry

high high up and far far away

To the warring city of Saints overseas

Our arrows and our anthems sail

Because that is all we can do tonight

But

The light

That lighthouse shine

Carves a path and plants a seed

And now all I want to do, in the candle sea under the saints, is MORE.