Where tender gifts in shadowed furrows lie,
And youthful breath is stifled in the ground,
A heavy heel descends from thrones on high,
Till buried songs no living echo sound.
Riley Shen | The Angel, graphite
Eva Samuel
Once did their voices kindle morning’s air,
And shape the hush with visions bright and fair;
Now silent chains confine what once was rare,
And dim the grace that flourished unaware.
Yet deep beneath the weight of iron command,
A secret fire keeps watch through darkened years;
No tyrant’s tread can wholly still that hand,
Nor choke the seed that drinks forgotten tears.
For though the world may press their light below,
Time lifts the bloom no force can overthrow.
Sonnet | Eva Samuel, layout design