Rogue Two (a poem)

Thursday, February 6, 2025

A Storm, A Fight, A Hope

Some moments feel like they exist in slow motion—history bending, the weight of rebellion pressing down, and the choice to act or fade into the noise.

This is for the ones who step forward. For those who refuse indifference. For those who carry the fire, even when the empire strikes.

Read. Sit with it. Let it move through you.

We’re together in this—

a storm,
like Stardust and Andor on the beach,
just before A New Hope
could be read.

The opening sacrifice
of warrior rebels,
moving from indifference
to action,
to a fight for a different
idea of the Republic.

Runaway train,
under power,
that locomotion of souls
afire with love—
and a bona fide
hate-resistance force.

Mad traffic.
And we’re just on a bus,
the driver drunk and reckless,
hauling 23 souls off to school.

Take the first step,
and then the next,
until chances spent.

Embracing,
a moment of rest,
in arms of love,
as the blast wave,
a strike of empire,
collapses on us.

I’ve got you,
you got me, babe.

It’s gonna be okay.

We just opened up hope
for the whole galaxy.

By demonstrating this,
let the story infect others.

Rebels rise—
scum, per the stigma.

We transcend that.

Impervious to a culture of slander,
hop greed,
covetous sharks circling,
looking to consume.

No other real purpose.

Hop over that greed,
avert the malice,
see the other sentients as sacred,
and shut your mouth
for a minute.

If this resonates, let it spread.
If it stirs something, hold on to it.
The fight isn’t over.