Let the mourners grow louder,
The oppressor, weaker still.
Better to greave loudly
Than emit the dark pulse of hatred.
O! It will come into the aggrieved,
Have not a doubt.
Years from now, or anon,
The twisting spine of odium
Shall writhe outward
From lands touched of cruelty.
It shall thrash its course in echo!
Bereavement is not just for the dead,
It is for the future.
It brightens the steel
Of this; our reckoning.
It hones the casualty
Toward the hand.
Inspired from a picture I saw on
Holding North Dakota's Breath
