My voice.
My one voice.
It’s message not original.
nor cloaked in the power of art
For there is no time for that
This onslaught is too fast
Smothering
Daily flooding
To overwhelm us
with the sheer volume of outrages
While we stand, open-mouthed,
gagging
At the audacity
the injustice
the blatant lies and mistruths
What is this alternative reality?
This strange land where facts are fictionalized
And fiction upheld as fact?
Where those appointed to head
Departments
Have condemned the very notion of what they now lead?
What society rejects the most needy?
Slams shut the door on refuge families
Standing on our stoop after two long years’ journey of vetting? Do we send them back to the hell of their war-torn homeland?
Who will we become if we do not embrace our neighbor?
Protect the environment?
Uphold the arts?
Who have we become, already?
What will be “normal” in another week, month, year?
This voice will not be silent
Even if the words have been said before
The same message,
Over and over
More poignantly articulated
More artfully expressed
Shouted from higher peaks
And broadcast to more ears.
It is my truth
And I must speak it
Else be cankered by anger,
Or worse,
Traumatized into frozen apathy.
I speak it to my representatives
in postcards, letters, emails, phone calls, on signs
at rallies and protests
to family,
to friends.
I speak it to you
And join my one voice
with millions
in harmony with the chorus,
unremarkable individually
but powerful united
“I” becomes “we”
“My” becomes “ours”
The power of We
The People
Who must not give up.
#615 Resist