chalk

Chalk.

Where the tongues

don't move

chalk will speak

on streets and squares.

On walls and ways.

Painted letters,

nothing to forget.

Something to remember.

Resistánce. Resistánce.

Time to awake.

When it's done

and I go home

with white hands,

truth will wash them clean.

copyright by Magical whispers/I. Normann (9/04/2020)