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By Nathan Porceng

Rebel eyes alight,
and for a moment
brightly blaze.

They’re grayer now,
flanked by crow’s feet.
Once they sponged up
all that they could,
fields to be conquered,
wrongs to be righted.
Now they recline
in their sockets
in sick cynicism,
watching
a single channel
of half-truths,
pseudoscience,
conspiracy,
and snake oil.

They’re harder now,
and angrier.
They’re clouded by suspicion.
Once striking, blue
and distinctive,
they’re average and
unquestioning.

But sometimes
they still surprise you.

Times like this,
when a
remark,
article,
ruling,
sermon,
photograph,
tax return,
triggers their
brilliance
to flicker
once more.

And they retain
your love.

And you hold out
hope.

Nathan Porceng is a Washington based poet, songwriter, and submariner. He has been published by Headline and Invizbl, and has forthcoming publications in Entropy, Fleas on the Dog, Writers Resist, and The Misfit Quill. Nathan enjoys the works of The Clash and Adrienne Rich.