No Love

for those who struggle on the sidelines

I’ve been to the anarchist strongholds

of Olympia.

I’ve fought in the streets

beside you for 9 years.

Tear gas, rubber bullets, flash grenades

batons, bikes, dogs.

Snipers on the roof.

I helped hold autonomous land

with the unhoused in the bay area

until it was taken and paved.

I marched in teamster picket lines

for unions that would never hire me.

I pretended to be dead

lying down for those who are murdered

in the countries this one is bombing.

I facilated a stressful action meeting

for hours

only to me interrupted

yelled at and over

by my dearest friends.

I got arrested violently

in the middle of the night,

in the middle of on off ramp

in front of a tank.

All night alone in a cell.

Only to be told in the morning

That it would be good

for the movement if one of us had died.

I joined a cadre

only to be betrayed

and left in a ward

when my brain

stopped working I was dying

I sat in

I walked out

I bashed back

I lost my voice

I was talked over

I was overlooked.

When I am gone

you wonder

Who made those cookies we ate in the port in the middle of the night?

Who called my mom when I was taken by the state?

Who washed the dishes after the potluck?

Who flyered all night so a handful might show up to our last minute action?

She is still here comrade

waiting patiently

for your solidarity.


One thought on “No Love

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