Hold my hand,
As we walk down this aisle,
Lit by nothing but the flames of those who hate us.
They will shout,
They will spit,
They will swing,
We will walk, with our heads held high, silent in mourning.
The torches will burn, our eyes will sting.
Our grip will tighten as they try to pull us apart.
We will stay strong for those who could not.
We will walk, with our heads held high, loudly in triumph.
They will swing and spit and shout
While we, lit by nothing but the fire that sustains us
Walk down this aisle, holding hands.
Accompanying Photo: “Athens”, © Seth Sawyers, licensed under Creative Commons 2.0.
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