LOVE Poem: Unshackled Storm, by Amy Vile Junod

We are not the hush of history,
We are the sound of what is to be.
We are not shadows, dim or weak,
We are the light that dares to speak.

Still they gather in their towers,
debating rights that were always ours.
Still, they carve laws into our skin,
marking the battles we’ll never win.
Still, they cage what love creates,
as if hearts can obey their gates.

They trade our dignity like a debt,
a promise made, but then they forget.
They turn our bodies into land,
etched with laws we never planned.
But hear us now, our chains will break,
for we were born to rise, awake.

A woman’s body is not a field,
not a war to lose or yield.
It is hers, her power, her choice,
her truth, her rightful voice.
Love is not a line in the sand,
but waves that crash and take the land.

So let them argue, let them fight,
Over borders, wrong and right.
Over walls that crack and fall,
Over wars that end us all.
We stand here unshaken and proud,
our silence louder than loud.

For power is not in fists that fly,
but in the ones who won’t comply.
We are not waiting, not asking to rise,
we are the storm in their quiet skies.
And love unshackled, wild, untamed,
will rise when all else burns to flame.