During the candlelight vigil,
A group of renegades,
In a Zoe dialect,
Encoded with a secret message,
To the most high,
"Pou ke sa?"
But there was no simple answer.
There are still in mourning after the sunset,
Draped in the linings of a disciple,
Like wise men with ancient medicine.
Becoming shadows of their former selves.
As the flames of hope kept flickering,
The candlewax is trying to keep it from going out.
But there's something therapeutic about being resilient,
When in pursuit of clout.