You should follow the law,
And if it's wrong
It should **** you off
And make you motivated for change.
Motive with your discipline should result in action,
Whether you merely speak out for what you believe,
In verbal or physical protest.
Your ancestors had freedoms to yours in fractions
And wealth the same,
Still they fought
To edge out a line in the sand
For a land with equal rights for every man.
Do you wish to return to such old & backward ways
As feudal days with no say?

If you’ve read any of my delicious, hand-crafted vignettes and listened to us talk, you’ll know that my roommates and I are critical thinking swifties who spend hour after hour talking about anything and everything, all at once. We’re full of niche feelings, lukewarm takes and sometimes, we’re in direct conflict with one another about pop culture, politics and life at Yale. I usually avoid the strikingly controversial - here - believe it or not.

There was an anti-Gaza-war protest encampment, briefly, at Yale. You could walk by it or sit, on early spring mornings and watch the goings-on with a cup of coffee. It wasn’t big. It was easily avoidable. They weren’t threatening and they didn’t tear things up (like Columbia). There were 200 students at most - the times I was there (out of a student body of 14,776). Passerby - students, professors, counter-protesters and casual observers would be asked to stop for a portrait - a quick picture taken against a white backdrop.

If you said “yes” there was packing tape and markers to write your own, individual message that you would affix to your clothing, temporarily. This went on for a few days. Many people I saw were apprehensive about being documented in that environment — fretting about the repercussions of being doxed — if so, they could turn their backs to the camera or covid mask their faces. There were well over a hundred portraits (my guess) taped up on walls, placards and tents.

I found the pictures to be a cross section of humanity - all races and ages. The messages were as diverse as the authors: The opposite of war is.. creation. Free Palestine. Everybody chill. There’s enough empathy for everyone. If we don’t protest genocide, our education is useless. Jews 4 Palestine. You admitted me, now accept me. Faculty for free expression. Let students teach you courage. We’re sitting on the lawn. Unsuspend my students. Divest from death. Do more. You wanted engaged students - I guess you have them. What does my 80k per year buy? Peace. Bring the 203 home.

The contrasts were fascinating and the pictures surprisingly moving. The people in those photographs, no matter the message, seemed beautiful. They stood taller and seemed prouder than normal. Free speech, like voting, is so American and so empowering. I found my heart going out to all of them - I’m proud of them.

I didn’t protest. Am I flawed - probably - but my work and volunteer-load is egregious. Were the protest subjects serious - yes, were the protestors serious - yes, was there an air of holiday excitement and escape from ordinary burdens - yes. I carried on as usual - so did my roommates. We're in scientific disciplines - we’re logical and surprisingly serious little-miss-Spocks - not easily distracted from our goals.

Every night, growing up, my family discussed and debated the particular issues of the day. The Israel/Palestine situation was seldom far from the headlines. It’s one of the most complex situations in world history. I ken this - there are no easy answers - the problems are un-TikTok-able.

In my family, you were expected to join the school debate team. You were expected to think. As the youngest, I was soaking it all up before I could participate. In high school, my debate specialty was extemporaneous speaking - so don’t get me started.
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songs for this:
A Man of Great Promise by The Style Council
Do You Realize?? by The Flaming Lips
That's Me Trying by William Shatner

It’s both a bitter funeral for freedom
and the birth of new crime.

I have slowly loosened the grip
of one hand on hell
for a slow and gradual gain
but its persistent flame
still licks at my soul
has made me old
and beat in its heat.

I will not win this fight
with the dark and hoary blight
til I loosen both hands
to be wholly free
for the warm and deep embrace
of heaven’s healing grace.

I just wanted to feel something
Instead of nothing at all
And I stood in the path of destruction
With my arms open wide
Anticipating the time of the fall
To see if I was still alive enough to cry
See the numbness was my fortress
Until it became my cage,
The walls came closer and closer
The cold in my soul kept me awake
Because I couldn't care
I could not love
I needed somewhere to put my trust
It hung in the air and it was suffocating me
It belonged somewhere
I tried to put it in me
But I couldn't fool myself too long
To trust my reflection had to be wrong
Because the broken promises
Rung in my ears
Of all the times I did that thing
I said I'd never go near
They told me look inside and you'll see, And when I looked inside,
I knew the answer couldn't be me
All that i’d find were questions
And my answers were only guesses
So where was the freedom they called the truth?
Because they promised and promised but never came through

And then you showed me, Lord,
That the answer was you.
“You turn man to destruction, And say, “Return, O children of men.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭90:3‬ ‭
And from there you took my hand
And walked with me on a new path‬‬
Never to be alone again.
You delivered me from darkness and the shadow of death,
That shadow being all my regrets -
That would follow me to hell,
And when I spoke from my cage
Let me out Lord Jesus please, only You can- I can't do this on my own,
My heart is broken.
My soul is longing,
You spoke back and at the sound of your voice
You tore the bars down and gave me a choice,
"Come with Me
Away from the grave"
Just as you rose,
I said I believed it
And I followed You
You gave your beloved rest.
Over my sins You were victorious
Rest on my soul, the lord has dealt bountifully with you
My indifference transforms to praise
When I put my trust in the only one who can raise from the grave.
Those who put their trust in YOU are never ashamed.
You have brought my soul to a wide place
The walls fell down
Every question is answered as I gaze into Your face,
Cause your face to shine and we shall be saved
This world binds in chains, Your words bought the freedom, for us you have written, You are the escape.
The promise maker, the promise keeper,
To Him who will always and ONLY be Faithful and True.

at times we tend to think
our democracy is safely founded and secure
only eventually we recognize
the need to constantly defend its fundamental rights
work steadily against their stealthy abolition
watch carefully the words of politicians
       lest they betray what they pretend to say
think twice for whom we cast our votes
avoid contenders who too often bray
     that these were not their quotes  
listen to those who have good arguments
     do not unleash too easy sentiments
and in the end cast our votes when called

in short  
democracy turns out to be hard work

     in case we shirk this
     we soon pay the price

unfree societies have known
     dictatorship  corruption  vice
have often needed centuries
to remedy injuries done
to find their four freedoms

and to recognize
democracy remains a living promise
a brilliant idea with many faces
always a work in progress

Before you go on to read  my writing, I ask that you read the one Titled " A Mother's Worst Fear" as you will appreciate and  understand this better .  As i sat patiently waiting  for my best friend of 20 years to be uncaged and given his freedom,
The excitement as I arrived must have blinded my entrance, never paying any mind to my surroundings , until I checked in with a guard and showed him my licence. He said without a smile for me to have a seat in the lobby, as I turned to do just that my heart hit the ground and then it hit me , I was standing in a building centered in the middle of a huge rounded  fence laced with razor sharp barbed metal.
I couldn't imagine the look on my face as I found me a seat, thoughts and emotions running so deep.
I couldn't help but notice 2 women sitting across from me, engaged in conversation. I heard one say her son was the young age of 19  , he had been stabbed four times in 2 different prisons, as the other chimed in her boy was now 30 this was his second time behind the fence of barbed wire
I tried to keep my head down so they couldn't see the tears welling in my eyes ,  my throat felt like a cotton ball was lodged I couldn't hardly swallow,  they shared their stories of their sons and their convictions, one was saling drugs the other robbed a store. Something inside me felt like a knife taking jagged strikes through my heart. My purpose for being there lost in my thoughts, I tried to stay silent and go unnoticed to reframe from any invitation of conversation   as one lady spoke up. Ma'am are you here to get your son too. I can't imagine the look on my face as I choked through the ball of cotton to respond to her. No ma'am unfortunately I'm not his release isn't until November of this year, my best friend of 20 years is the reason I'm here. Dropping my head back down I couldn't reframe any longer, the pain to much, tears rolling down my face as I tried wiping them away. My thoughts of my baby boy running rapid, God how I wish I was here to get him.
The men in uniform in and out , leaving me sickened with the metal doors slamming and self locking at their exit and entrance. The men all around the centered building I waited ,all wearing white with large black words stamped on their backs "Property of the State" Nothing but glass between them and me, I watched as some gathered while others sat alone in their own little world and wondered what my baby did when he was out there , was he joining the others in a game of ball or was he all by himself sad and alone. A guard informed us it wouldn't be long now, they were signing their release, The mother's excitement filled the room, was I being selfish, I should be excited to. soon I would see my best friend,  but all that my mind could think was God why can't I be waiting on my boys release. I picked up my friend as we got in the car, he noticed my silence and could see I had been crying , his age and conviction and knowing me so well, he offered me his condolences and then he said, you know I would've traded places with him just to see you reunited and happy again. Piercing pain and sorrow over took me now .we weren't even out of the parking lot I couldn't see to drive through my tears, I hugged him tightly and said, this is why you will always be my best friend for the next 20 years. My son called me later that night to congratulate my friend as I heard his voice crack on the other end of the line he said tell Mr. David I'm glad he's free , hey momma don't worry it's not my turn yet , he's aged and doesn't have the time left out there I do, for the next time you walk through this fence of barbed wire it will be me walking out to go home with you.

©kimmied1105

When we are surrounded
                   by many walls.

And there is only a window,
                  It can lead to a fall.

Start with a brick and talk
                  through every one.

And eventually there will be
                 a door to our freedom.