Joe finished dressing and admired himself in the bedroom mirror. He had worked hard at the afterschool job to buy this coat. He felt pride in his choice. Running down the stairs to grab an apple for breakfast, Joe was suddenly halted by his mother’s voice. “Joe! What are you wearing?”
“I bought it myself” he explained. “Isn’t it great?” Joe turned around so his mom could see the entire wording printed on the back of the jacket.
“Well, no. You can’t wear that, and especially to school! You’ll be ostracized!”
“What does that mean? But, yes, I’m going to wear it. I’ve been saving up to finally buy it!”
“I said no!” Joe started to leave and opened the door. His mother continued, “if I have to lock you in your room, I will! Now take that off!” Joe turned and gave his mom a woeful look.
“You can try, but I won’t go. Aren’t you the one telling us kids to express ourselves, stand up to bullies, look out for each other? Well this is me taking a stand!”
Joe’s mother stopped and thought about what he said. Of course he was right. Joe left for school after his mom hesitantly gave him a quick hug.
The struggles of the older are spelled out in books, memoirs and songs. Elders’ hands, wrinkled and worn, have the touch lessened but the mind still tells the wisdom of their years. Some names or dates may be forgotten, but the heart holds the most important memories. Over a good cup of coffee or tea, you may be privileged to hear the dreams of these generations.
Apparently the vault of human beasts opened and tides of smoke and debris started to slather innocent victims. The flood of armed men creeped down the salty crusted edges of the shore. One of the soldiers tilted to the side picking up an old broken shark jaw. He thought it was a weapon, shining from a silver glint in the moonlight. I stopped my needles, faulted a stitch on the red hat I was knitting listening to helpless voices, my defiant knitting act resumed.
I choose this song because when I first heard it I could not get it out of my head. Today I think this equates to many of the displaced people taken by ICE.
Thanks Sadje for this question because I was just reading a second prompt response after writing my own and it hit me how fun it is to see how many different interpretations end up in a poem or story or photo. This is a great place to be even though there are problems with WordPress. I think this community is a unique interaction with as you say, people all over the world. Maybe some politicians should try it! See, that last sentence may upset some people, thinking, can’t she just write something palatable without the P? I try, but unlike my efforts in 2016 when I started this blog for entirely different reasons, I now feel emboldened to say what I think. And of course we don’t all agree but what fun it is for me to sit and write. My poems are usually like my stories, off the cuff. I’m sure part of that is because I no longer have many conversations with others since I moved and everyone around me took jobs and time is short. The result is, I bare my soul here and enjoy reading the ideas from other bloggers. Might not say evolve but hopefully improve?😄
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