Happy Martial Law

It is today, 40 years ago, that people disappeared.  Things will never be the same for them.  Some will perish and some will live to tell their story.

It is Martial Law.  Sirens bombarding the ears of the Metropolis while some “junkies” were taken out of a home leaving his crying baby in her cot with his wife clutching tight on his arm receiving a blow to the head from a uniformed man.

We are without rights.  The sun will set today and melt from our eyes, and then darkness.  The shouts will intensify.  The crying intensifies.  The anguish deepening.  The loss quadruple.  The monsters are feeding.  Claws are boring through skin.  Blood are clotting on the pavement.  The time has come for us to say good bye.

Sun is coming.  As morning approaches, the violet-colored sky begins to annoy a gasping prisoner of the night.  Let us be off this dark evening chains upon our wrists and let us breathe.  As the horizon brightens, hopes are rising following the yawning sun.

I am free.  Surely, as the brightness of the sun bursts in the sky, darkness dissipates as well as my chains.  As the warm sun touches my skin, so does freedom.  Am I really free?  For now.  Darkness will fall again in 12 hours and 59 minutes.  Our chains will still chain us.  Fear will terrorize us.  Hope will flee and return in an annoying cycle.  Happy are those who fell during the night.  Hope will never haunt them.