This guitar is made of blood. Activists write chords to marching feet. Boney, nimble fingers of the Youth, so idealistic because they're fresh from paradise.
January presses skin against steel against wood to make music of this struggle. Bloggers write songs. Political prisoners write songs. Mothers waiting for protesters to come home write suites to a peoples' passion.
If Mubarak breaks our fingers, we play with our tongue, Hendrix style.
Photo: Sylvia, taken w/ iPhone 3GS, Hipstamatic app (Lucifer VI lens, Pistil film)
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