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.