We were simple workers,
scurrying through our garden hills:
the black and earthen buildings.
We sought union, moving en-masse.

Steam rose from the throng:
a testament to the chilling, outside air:
freezing the most 'National' among us into
silence.
The wind buffeted us with answers.
Bleary eyed we gazed toward the gale's source,
whose lofty words gained momentum
rippling through the crowd. Our structure
founded on the safely buried Queen
was shaken by the cannon voice
of the loudest among us. His cries amplified
as we carried His message on our backs.

My hand, alone, defied the churning tempest
jettying out into the air.
I had a question.

But We were simple workers.