March 8, 2003
the evening of the day that
the second iraq war started
bill and I were paying the check
in a restaurant on mission street
and heard something outside
a hubbub not a commotion a
rising susurration of feet and voices
numerous shadowy figures passing
we got up from our chairs walked out the
door across the sidewalk into the road and
joined the protest walking several blocks in
the early-spring after-dinner darkness and I
have never felt
before or since
quite that
powerless
the bitter certainty that
no matter how vehement
we would make not the tiniest
difference to history unfolding
almost fourteen years later I find this is the memory
I fight against daily as I rouse myself to take action
and more action and more as I struggle to embrace
the value of spectacle
image source is here
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