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


Daily flooding

To overwhelm us

with the sheer volume of outrages

While we stand, open-mouthed,


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


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