The Gilded Flame

I walk toward it

a lantern hung too high, gilded

its flame licking the edges of a nation

its glow a command: “Bow. Obey. Forget.”

It illuminates streets where trans soldiers, nurses, teachers, warriors of everyday life

are told they do not exist

their uniforms stripped, their service erased

as if loyalty is measured in conformity

It burns across classrooms where black history

is pried from pages

shadows swallowing centuries

so that the truth of struggle, survival

and brilliance can vanish into silence

It stretches over Pride flags

turning rainbow into ash

marking the faces of gay and queer people

with suspicion and law

telling them they are not welcome here

that love is a crime against the crown

It sways over ballots

over lines drawn to hide the votes of Black communities,

their voices carved from ballot boxes

maps etched like wounds into the land

so that democracy bows before a single throne

before a single gilded glare

And yet it swings not weakly

but with the arrogance of power

its light flattering itself

coating the streets in gold

transforming the Oval Office

into a palace fit for a would-be king

his portrait glowing in the same flame

a monarch chosen by none, yet obeyed by fear

I walk, step by step

and see its shadows claim the names

of everyone the light does not favor

trans people, Black people, gay people, immigrants, or anyone else refusing to bow

all taught that existence itself

is conditional, fragile, temporary

The lantern is no guide

It is a predator

Its glow is a crown

its flame a command: erase, erase, erase

And beneath it, we must choose

to stand in shadow

or to look directly at the fire

and raise our hands unbowed, unbroken, alive