On the street they stood. Hand in hand. Defiant, unshakable; a mountain. The fire of determination burning deep within their eyes, the soft whispers of love fueling their every move. She wrapped her hands around her waist. And while the angry roars shook the earth to its core, they smiled at each other. They knew what they came for. They had a cause. They could feel it, smell it, taste it. Some shouted for freedom, others for their rights, but their throats shouted for love. The love forbidden to them by their mothers and fathers. With every shout their throats grew sore, but that love grew a step closer. They shouted. Shouted. Shouted. A tear ran down her cheeks. She wiped her tears and held her hands, whispering “we will prevail—”. She couldn’t finish her sentence.
A man towered in front of them, dressed in a uniform of brutality. In his hands a baton that engulfed the government’s oppression. He raised his black oppression in the air and struck her legs. They shouted. She could feel her bones cracking. He struck her abdomen. They shouted. He raised his arm; she held her and kissed her lips. The final blow was to her head. The governments injustice and brutality dropped her to the ground.
She spat on his face.
A shot pierced the sky.
The mob scattered like childhood dreams.
The smell of tear gas swirling with the air created a graceful dance of no limbs.
She put her hands around her mouth as she tried to pull her away from the fleeing crowd.
The man dressed in black stood like a wall over her.
A wave of cowering flesh and sweat pushed her away from her. Her veil fell on the floor. She tried to get back to her.
All she could do was look. Look as her lover lay unconscious and the ground beneath her turned red.
Her screams were muffled; her tears hot.
She knew that the love they fought for will never go in vain.