No matter the absence of stars
that leaves the night in darkness;
no matter the empty bowls
when the children are not fed;
no matter criminal words
are spoken without recrimination;
no matter the constant cold
that burns as hard as fire;
no matter the mocking rejection
of everything held most dear;
no matter the never-ending road,
once thought to lead to freedom;
no matter the face that turns away
from the whispered, desperate plea;
no matter the sorrows
never exhausted,
the burdens never lifted,
the dreams never realized,
and the moments never lived;
it comes.
The rod that strikes the unbowed back
is forged of futility.
Change comes.