Insurgent

“Speak Up,” I’m told, “Perhaps you’ll be heard?” But no matter my muttering, no matter my “Excuse me sirs,” no matter my screams! No faces swivel in my direction, with smiles and recognition, “Yes, I’m here.” No arms reach out in greeting, “How do you do, my name is….” So I don’t speak up, I don’t! Not to anyone, But I nod at the tea party, at the park, at the schoolhouse, at the pub, at work, and mutter some nonsense like “That’s wonderful, where will you vacation next summer?” But do not be confused here just because I no longer, “Speak up!” Like a mosquito I’ve evolved by feeding off my hosts Who idly fill my ears with all I need to know to test the waters. Soon fears will begin to itch thoughts begin to buzz, and blood begin to boil. And I will be there; they will hear me screaming, “Revolution!”