Iris longs to be with others who resist State laws; others who risk punishment to express themselves however they choose; others who believe that what a person dreams is more important than exams devised to test how little one knows about history.

As Moloch’s arms in ancient days

The thrashing, crying babes embraced

So, the world consumes the children’s children

Who have forgotten Moloch’s sainted name

What good is a feather without a wing? What use a wing without a wind to lift it? How I make the effortless an effort in this war with myself.