Mobilizing Power

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.

                                                        Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Today's headline in the Washington Post roars: Trump Mobilizes Troops Against Unrest

 

I am sickened.

 

I am repulsed.

 

I am horrified.

 

 

 

I believe this past week has been the most devastating and tragic week of my lifetime. With the rest of the world, I am reeling in pain and horror from the images of George Floyd's death by those who are supposed to protect him and the community. We cannot deny, excuse, escape the reality of police brutality. We cannot unsee. I have shed so many tears, watching the raw pain of so many protesters. 

 

I have been sifting through all the news, trying so very, very hard to shift the President and his ugliness from the front of my mind, trying to get instead to a more hopeful set of thoughts.  - 

 

Is it different this time?

Is our pain so raw, so all-encompassing, to make real change?

Will we face our demons, our country's roots in white supremacy, the systemic racism woven into everything we have and do?

 

Words from this past Sunday's church service keep echoing in my mind:

 

Power comes from the spirit within us,

deep within us.

 

I had been crafting words about 'positive spirits' this past week, those amazing people who make this time look and feel different. Who bring hope.

 

I love Tuesday blogging...it's one of my happy places...and I want to write happy, I want to write hope. 

 

 

But this is too much: Trump Mobilizes Troops Against Unrest

 

I live in a suburb of Washington, D.C. 

I believe in peaceful protests, I have participated in many.

Fear of coronavirus has left me too chicken, too scared, too frighten to show up at any these past days.

But I am 100 % supportive of these protests. I am totally committed to reforming our criminal system, dismantling the white supremacy that runs through all our institutions, and creating a more just and equitable society.

 

Through tears, I offer a poem, written in the middle of my sleepless night:

 

 

 

June 1, 2020

A gorgeous spring day,

temperature in the low 70s,

soft breeze,

bright sunshine;

you know,

a picture-perfect day,

here in Washington, DC.

 

Peaceful protesters gathered

in Lafayette Park,

singing songs of freedom,

crying for George Floyd,

chanting, "No Justice, no peace,"

standing together, united,

you know,

a picture-perfect day,

here in Washington, DC.

 

Some thirty minutes before curfew,

heavily armed troops

at the President’s whim

move in lockstep, precise formation,

and begin

firing rubber bullets,

releasing tear gas

setting of flashes of fire,

mowing down, shoving, beating

the peaceful protesters

you know,

a picture-perfect day,

here in Washington, DC.

 

Peaceful protesters now gone,

this pathetic pulp of a President

his insatiable need for publicity

takes his manicured entourage and

makes a choreographed walk

across Lafayette Park

for the purpose of a photo

on

you know,

a picture-perfect day,

here in Washington, DC.

 

Deep within us, 

deep within us,

we know right.

We. 

Know. 

Right. 

This is terrifyingly wrong.

 

I can't breathe.