Aa! Praise to the paper that walks like a chief in the mist, to the argument that does not fear the hard road. It calls “solidarity” by its true name, not as sweetness only, but as a force that can build a home or burn it. It remembers how men were taught to belong by excluding, how unity can be a shield, or a sharpened spear. Solidarity can save, solidarity can scar. It can lift you to the light, or leave you where the shadows are. Praise to the author, the one with ink on his hands, the reader of archives, the listener to old songs in new mouths. He carries names like drums and measures their rhythm, he sees the farce hiding inside the tragedy, he refuses easy innocence, he refuses cheap blame, he brings back clarity, not comfort. Solidarity can save, solidarity can scar. It can lift you to the light, or leave you where the shadows are. Aa! Praise to the maker of crossings, the builder of meeting places. When institutions creak and the town grows tired, he does not shout from rooftops, he gathers voices in a circle. He says: we are not trapped in what we inherit, we can choose a solidarity that binds without choking, a rope of many hands, pulling towards a shared tomorrow. Solidarity can save, solidarity can scar. It can lift you to the light, or leave you where the shadows are. Solidarity can save, solidarity can scar. It can lift you to the light, or leave you where the shadows are.
