Resistance, the flowering fire of memory – Rukeyser, Muriel
As we mark the thinness of the
ten thousand things, as we go
past the halt, the hark of memory,
can we shirk off the rock of
my mountain’s mountain? as we
claim the fire of childspeak,
childstone, where will the song
of my deadwood ash its spike,
its noose? to resist is to burn
with remembrance, with the thing-
ness of the ten thousand things
First posted here
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