All it takes is one voice
From the podium or pulpit
To validate years of hidden
Hatred; give permission
To acts of violence
Or microaggressions
Du jour. The woman
Or the couple pummeled
Just before a mass
Execution. Authority
Is not always earned –
When granted by those in the audience
Who have nothing better
To do on a Tuesday night;
The venom infused,
Leaking into their skin.
This is Poem #101 from the Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year, I had written 241 poems. Here, I have published second drafts of those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.
On November 9, 2016, those of us who’d slept woke to a dystopian nightmare. We cried. The poem above, written months before that day, spoke to the fears those tears were reacting to.
The events of the other day, where young, Catholic, MAGA-hat wearing boys taunted and mocked Native American Veteran Elders, is a prime example of the ways in which our country is NOT edging towards greatness in any sense of the the word. It also demonstrate that our fears, unfortunately, we’re founded.
Today, due to timeliness, I once again feel compelled to publish a second poem – in its original slot at #101.
(On a #medialiteracy note, I noticed that Fox “News'” coverage of the event mentions that the boys were wearing clothing from their school, but NOT that they donned MAGA hats. It also uses the word “confrontation” rather than “mock.” Interesting.)
Tomorrow is Marin Luther King, jr. Day. United States, we can do better than this.
#resist
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