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I dedicate these words to the martyrs of Tahrir

Currents flowing,
Rushing
Torrents tumbling,
Pushing
Stirred by Hannibal’s sons
The pregnant waters
Swell

Rapids converging,
Merging,
Waves cresting,
Crashing
Spurred by Pharaoh’s curse
The surging forces
Gel

The crowd
Rumbles
The wall
Crumbles
The phalanx
Stumbles
And the mothers
Wail

For 18 days
And 18 nights
The flowing mass
Expands
And from it spilt
fertile silt
Imbuing barren
Sands

The land awash
In muddy water
No prophet to reveal
The morrow
Yet hawks fly
Herds thrive
And eager is
The sparrow

What do we
Know
Which grains will
Grow
Bitter roots?
Brotherhood?
Or sweet kernels
Of liberty?

Enough to
Say
The dams gave
Way
To the pregnant flood
Of freedom

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