bushwacka layo love story

I am an activist.

The police, protectors of the people, pushed their way into the rally. Their mechanical eyes recording the faces and voices of the faceless and voiceless. It started to rain. The voiceless, only human, were slow in opening up their umbrellas.

My shirt and tie started to darken with water. I moved under the umbrella of a mother and a daughter, offering to help them find candles so they can be part of a sea of candles. So they can be voiceless no more. For this deed, all I asked for was protection from the rain.

The Good Lord, I told them, is weeping for our cause. He doused our clothes and cooled our skins to keep the fire inside us strong. They cannot stop us, I told them, for no one can stop the voices of millions. No one can stop the Truth.

In a sea of candles under umbrellas, the voiceless spoke with one voice. People's power, we all shouted, in a language I don't understand. I counted the minutes before I go back to my office job. People's power.

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