Resistance takes awe kinds. Social change is messy. People of good will come in a wide variety of forms. I ask that we be gentle and patient with one another, making space for all who want to move forward. This poem is a reflection on a dynamic in activist circles of “eating our own” where we may fall short on lessening us/them, in-group/out-group barriers in seeking justice and peace for ALL in the long-run…
Corn Cope Ya – Owed to the Cornucopia of Resistance
The just us warriors
Had
Their well yearned dreams and schemes
Having pain their dues
And precious little time
Fore patients
Mostly in knead of heeling
As project
Their plans
And the urgency of pissing off
In well warrin’ truth setting free
Owed growth forced
On fire
With what wood be
Wear I deal metes self-dealing
If we just
Eat the seed corn
Wee can push threw
Afar a field
And win the coming daze
As knew growth trampled
In the grapes of wrath
No time
Fore the storied plays of fate
In pastoral nature
The see’ds still
Underground
And the growing
Masses of tender feats
And messy rage of scorching sun
That germ rooting
Peering soiled
In hidden depths
And growth beyond
What wilt thou due
As well within
Those vexing spells of time
Generations churned and spurned
In the gaps of experience
And youth fullness
Bringing a bout
What is knew
And what is new
Have you herd
