Useless protest

We march here by the thousands.
United in our outrage at what people are capable of.
We whistle, we shout, we sing that we will not accept this.
We demand, with one voice, a peace no one believes possible anymore.

The first march we held still rang with hope.
We were there, all of us together.
We still believed that if only we were many enough, loud enough,
someone, somewhere, would listen.
If, but, then.

The chants we shout now are the same. And yet not.
We no longer sing as one.
Here and there, a small group starts and then falls silent again,
while a few individuals mumble along, cautiously.
The leaflets still carry the same messages,
but no one looks at them anymore.

I see us marching on, growing quieter,
drifting further apart,
until we can no longer hear or see each other
and somewhere, far away,
a people ceases to exist.