Thrice.
Thrice.
Thrice I have seen her cry.
My five-year-old eyes fixed on a screen.
Wondering why smoke and fire came from the buildings.
The eyes of other kids, in their orange, plastic chairs, were watching when the buildings fell.
The teacher said nothing.
I went home crying in confusion as the green titan wept in sorrow.
Thrice.
Thrice.
Thrice I have seen her cry.
Red was all around the second time.
Balloons, streamers, signs, hats—that wretched color was everywhere.
Trumpeting crowds ushered in a new leader.
But no honorable elephant would have wanted this to happen.
they would be forced to remember the lady’s tears as a tyrant was elected
Thrice.
Thrice.
Thrice I have seen her cry.
The ocean around her became saltier.
The puppet that had taken power now took away the one thing she stood for.
The reason why she existed, to begin with.
Invisible barriers were erected across the waters and in the sky.
Thrice.
Thrice.
Thrice I have seen her cry.
I’m certain she’ll cry once more.
