[Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/search/rise%20up/)
Rise up, the call heard throughout history's most tragic events. Two little words that bear the load of revolution, the promise of change, the rejection to accept what is for what might be.
Whispered in prison cells, chanted in crowded squares, the slogan painted on protest banners. Stand up against injustice, against oppression, against the crushing pressure of systems intended to maintain you modest. The expression suggests you've been down, defeated, buried into the earth like seeds yearning for their season.
Rising up, nevertheless, is not always political. Sometimes it's personal—rise from the ashes of a broken marriage, rise from the depths of addiction, rise from the grave of your past self. The human spirit appears naturally suited for this upwards movement, this resistance of gravity, both physical and metaphorical.
Bread rises up also, yeast performing its silent miracle to turn heavy dough into something light and nutritious. Perhaps that is the true force: it accepts that time, pressure, and change are needed for ascent.