When the sun sets

One day the sun will set.
And under darkness and silence
cages will open, chains will smash
and the downtrodden will rise.

When the sun sets,
the oldest inhabitants
of this land will wash off
hundreds of years of caked blood.
Weighted memories freed,
resting in dust;
out of the soil they wield
mercy in one hand
and vengeance in the other.

While those imprisoned on islands
seeking refuge will adorn
barbed wire crowns
and razor blade tongues.
With salt crusted under
eyes and feet
they, with a wave of hands
command oceans
to split like Moses and make
their way to promised lands.

When the sun sets,
the homeless will feed
the world with joy
Those without love
live in hearts of forgiving.
Keeping warm in winter burning
cash falling from skies.
Stomachs full with kind looks,
empty of scorn, they barter with
spiteful words once spat at them.

The exploited free each other,
band together to destroy dead-end dreams;
a dissatisfied army tear down foundations
that kept unworthy leaders standing
for so long.
Their dripping sweat and broken backs
no longer bottled and consumed.

When the sun sets,
The abused will no longer cower,
wear trauma like armour and
reclaim the safe night;
bathed in shadows and moonlight;
greeting them as old friends.
Make home in valleys of peace,
no longer feeding
honeyed tears to the wicked.
Their path lit by bruises that now glow galaxies.

One day the sun will set,
And those who have wronged will tremble,
Stripped of what made them
strong in the light.
Sweet nothings whispered
have soured in ears long enough.
They cry and cringe,
politicians, bankers, false prophets
and abusers
chained in their filth.

Their sins circle like vultures
sitting upon thrones of shattered 
dreams and hope 
burning eyes contemplate judgement
the blinding guilt too much to bear.

And only then will the sun rise once more.