The Promised Land

I’m tired of children crying themselves to sleep at night,
hunger pangs gnawing their dreams.
I’m tired of hollow-eyed women with twisted limbs
pushing shopping carts between luxury cars
searching for empty plastic bottles to recycle.
I’m tired of cops forcing crippled old men
off the steps of City Hall into freezing rain at 3 am
to die from exposure and hypothermia.
I’m tired of politicians’ glassy-eyed stares
pretending to listen to pleas for mercy
from the people they swore to serve.
I’m tired of watching the planet burn
while global corporations drive US imperialism,
plundering resources and divvying up the profits.
I’m tired of political “leaders” who insist our only hope
is to settle for compromises that give us
tiny crumbs from corporate oligarchs’ tables.
I’m tired of intellectuals endlessly debating
which brand of socialism is the ideal
instead of taking action to bring it.
I’m tired of identity movements dividing us
with claims that “our oppression is worse
than your oppression.”
I’m tired of hashtags and social media
echo-chamber parroting passing for activism.
I’m tired of trying to convince people
that we have the power if we only unite and use it.
No revolution in the history of the world
has ever been won by armchair activists.
We need to all be Elizabeth Cady Stantons,
Mahatma Ghandis, MLK’s and water protectors.
I’m tired but not broken. I’ll rise up again
to rejoin my sisters and brothers in the fight.
Maybe together we can yet create “the Promised Land”
one community at a time.


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