The wall never moves,
frozen in suspended memory—
yet it bears witness to the bravest,
most tragic of scenes.
Bodies crash against concrete,
their burning resolve igniting the next.
Smoke billows, searing through the air,
pulling salt from undaunted, defiant eyes.
Cold water lashes against its surface,
numbing, punishing, subduing.
Graffitied messages cling amidst it all,
each painted letter a stroke for change.
Yet under power’s willful cruelty,
blood stains its memory.
Etched as deeply as tattoos.
As clingy as adhesive residue.
No pigment nor layer could penetrate,
its weathered cracks and gaping wounds.
One could plaster a thousand mist coats,
paint a hundred gilded deceits in red,
but truth’s outline will always peak through.
The wall remembers; it always does.
- Russell Ognes
(Photo by Aleena Louise Abad /FEU Advocate)