Portland, smoke and fire
by Heather Rose
The music, disjointed,nobody can hear but me.
It surrounds the images I see
of arms raised, fists tight, defiant
in the face of tear gas, rubber bullets
and batons.
They strike at the core of me,
The part of my heart that yearns for
that strength and freedom.
Fist raised, smoke pours.
There is a thunderous round of shouts.
But here they stand
creating life from hate.
Justice from oppression.
They move as one.
Violins play fast all around the darkness,
wanting that those that were standing there
would see that there is so much they can do
to stop what is happening.
Fists are raised, smoke pours out.
Faceless ones hit and shout.
My heart cries inside
with a wildness beating
and all I want to do is be there.
I want to raise my fist, expand my arms
reaching high into that darkness
tearing out it’s heart in my hands.
My dreams are full of shouting and mirrors of hate.
My mind is adrift with anger and I need to stand
with those I see.
Mind dancing, soul sifting through all the fear
to find the core that brings me here.
I may not be there but I am there.
I am always there.
Dancing here alone.
Seeing those I want to be with.
Those I want to protect.
The ones that I look up to
who relish the wreck and rebuild
of the lives they lived before.
The violin beats out a flurry of strings
While they dance, fists raised, while they dance.
I have to curb my hatred have to remember who I am.
There is firmness in love
There is strength in caring
There will always be those
who hate.
Who snarl in the mighty darkness.
Who fill you with fear and hatred and need to push down..
because they are hurting those who you love.
And the violin keeps playing on
Van Gogh, portrait of an artist,
Surrounded with sunflowers
The mind of an artist
The mind of an artist can always conquer
the mind of someone who is closed
They care not for each other or anybody else.
They lie, their mouths flowing with honey and crocodiles that bite.
That kill.
They grab hold and stay there over an over and over
I understand that the smoke and the fists raised are the way to go.
The way to be.
I stand.
I stand.
I stand.
Do not forget me.
Do not forget me.
Do not forget me.
I am there.
I am there
I am there.
