The Fire Has a Name

 

🌎 The Fire Has a Name
by Zipolita

In LA streets, the people rise,
Not in rage, but in rightful cries.
Not riots — no — but pleas for grace,
For families lost without a trace.

ICE sweeps in with heavy boots,
While truth is buried at the roots.
Mothers torn from children’s hands,
Under orders no heart understands.

A president plays war at home,
Calls in troops, then stands alone.
“Only I,” he says with might,
But it's not law — it’s stolen light.

He fans the flames, then blames the ash,
Turns our fears into his cash.
Says, “Look! It’s broken!” — but it’s his fire,
Fueled by power, hate, and liar’s ire.

Yet numbers whisper louder still:
Immigrants build, they don’t kill.
They clean, they care, they make things grow —
$34 billion strong — more than most know.

But truths like these are torn apart,
Edited out with cruelest art.
The myth survives — they make it stick —
A scapegoat’s mask, their oldest trick.

And far away where fjords run deep,
The salmon pens deny the sleep
Of those who fished with love and lore —
Now poisoned waters touch their shore.

Different lands, the same old game:
Exploit the weak, protect the name.
Profit wears a green disguise,
As wild worlds vanish before our eyes.

But still we stand, and still we see,
The ones they cage deserve to be free.
We hold the truth, we won’t forget —
The fight's not lost, not over yet.

And if you’re wearing uniform:
Refuse the storm that breaks the norm.
The oath you swore was not to kings —
But to the law, and juster things.

For in this land, we all belong —
Not just the rich, the loud, the strong.
So may we rise, in love and peace,
Until the cruel commands all cease.

🇨🇦 "In Canada, the ICE is refreshing… not arresting."
May we live to say the same — and mean it.