Love in the Trenches

By Walidah Imarisha

He is a Technicolor bright red star
On a titled beret Black
as revolution

She is an afro on a wanted poster
Clear eyes staring out and scaring
the shit out of those who aint
got a clue.

He is a black mask on the face
Of a child who has had
Enuf
Of the tanks and checkpoints.

She is hands around a shocked solder’s throat
As the crowd surges around her and
Overpowers rifles and gas
Canisters with the sheer force of
Flesh

He is birthright reclaimed upraised
Fist clutching a gun on the
Top of the city’s capitol building

She is a Molotov cocktail
Thrown suspended midair flames
Licking at the sky ready
To kiss the earth

He is recovered plans to government
Facilities and she is the bomb
He lays

She is a safe house offered
by a 65 yr old grandmother
and he is donations from a check stretched
paper thin to feed a family of six
because they believe in her
and him.

She is lined up against the wall
Government guns trained on her while
She yells “don’t mourn, organize”

He is rapid fire grenade detonation
Artillery napalm bomb lullabies

She is atrocities committed covered
In blood so that children may sleep
Through the night in peace

He is whispered “para la
Revolucion” as he kissed his newborn
Daughter’s tiny hand

He is food smuggled into the hole for
A political prisoner
And she is guns smuggled into
Occupied territory.

She is an uprising he is a
Rebellion she is an
Insurrection he is a
Manifesto she is a
Communiqué he is a
Free school she is
Political education classes he is a
Kiss she is an
Embrace they are
whispers in the heart of the people they are
love in the trenches.