Portland Strong (a poem), by Charly (with photo by Scully Media)
The drums of the revolution have been sounding loud
for hours, for days, for years unbowed
Dancing, and chanting, there is joy in using our voices
Drums and blocks, horns, and a boombox
A subtle move goes through the crowd
goggles on, mask on, shield up, we will not be cowed
Do you have the lawyer's number?
They will come for you in the gutter
Write it on your arm, write it on your body
here, let me help you sweetie
With no warning at all
the tear gas falls
It will rise buildings tall
the wall advances to cover us all
We retreat, we pull back
retch and hack
Wash the eyes, check for wounds
medics are here, no one is marooned
Sounding clear through the gas attack
the drums and trumpet call us back
The phalanx advances through the mist
Portland is pissed
The Rose City will continue to resist, despite the danger
because Black Lives will always Matter
Poetry by Charly, shared with enthusiastic consent.
Photo by Scully Media, shared with enthusiastic consent.
Blog post by #5.