The Silence Beneath the Flash

“February winds, bright sky, bright lights…” She walked between the banners, And every hand held light. They came to hear her speak of peace, Not watch her fade to white. The air was thick with thunder, The cameras burned her crown. She reached to lift the weary — And someone brought her down. Who gained when the silver turned to red? Who sings the songs the lost can’t spread? Who profits when the dream is dead — In the silence beneath the flash? They said it was a warning, They said it kept the line. They called it fate and balance, And paid it off with time. But truth’s a dying language, Spoken by the brave. They paved her words in marble dust, And sold her name to save. Who gained when the silver turned to red? Who writes the lies the faithful read? Who profits when the dream is dead — In the silence beneath the flash? “Peace is bad for business. Hope don’t pay the bills. Heroes make believers — But martyrs make the kills.” The flags still wave in ashes, The masks still make the law. The face that smiled for mercy’s sake Now haunts the things we saw. And somewhere in the static, When the night feeds on the flame, A voice still whispers through the wires — And we all know her name. Who gained when the silver turned to red? Who bought the crown that mercy shed? Who lives off ghosts and broken thread — And the silence beneath the flash? Static returns. A flash. Silence.