Confetti and streamers, jubilant change
proclaimed from windows in the business districts.

In far-flung provinces, a more tempered watch—
change comes slower where people live

in the shadowy in-between. Rebels still populate
the hills, come out to collect their tithe. Put

a gun in the hands of anyone with a grievance
and take a gamble on the outcome. Who lost

their land, their titles, in the takeover?
Such business goes back and farther back

to feudal times. I know of a wealthy clan
that once laid claim in northern territories.

What underwrote their vow to side with the people?
Their own fall from grace, their dispossession.

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