Draft 2 of Walking Manifesto #4--But I Will Walk, Part I

So yesterday, I wrote the first draft posted it and thought all day about the fact that it was missing something. I profoundly pondered the difference between being wounded and being angry, which is the feeling that my activist black sisters and other sisters "of color" are really expressing with regards to the Women's Marches of 2017. So here, it is. And I also added the perspective of mostly white and middle class sisters, for good measure.

Walking Manifesto #4--But I will walk, Part I, Draft 2

There is a dawn coming to my town

And my eyes cannot stay shut

Wondering what colors it will bring

The fire forging new brave hearts

For the journey that may be dark

Or the pyre of precluded prayers

From spirits already slayed

My sister says she cannot walk with me

- She says she can’t sleep

Too tired from everything

That should have been done yesterday

- She says she can’t come

Too wounded from everytime

No one came to walk with her

When she sloshed in the silt

Of drowning dreams

- She says she can’t stay

Too broken under the burden of the world

- She says she got her ticket out of town

A long holiday weekend, you know…

And who wants to deal with this crowd anyway

But thanks, and glad to hear later what happened

- She says she won’t come

Too angry about clueless people

Who don’t even see what’s wrong and

Won’t self-educate

And she sneers

At the invitation to participate

In a pale copy of what she is

And what she had created

I fret about who’s left to walk with me

I plan the route where they tell us

We must go only on our feet

They say to carry only the smallest bag

That will not fit enough food

They say to write on your skin

Who will save you if you fall

And no one recognizes you

In the belly of this anonymous beast

They say all the words that will

Wreck my walk

But I will walk

I never was the woman to run

When the world wrecks

I will carry on my skin

The names of all my sisters

And in my belly all the words

They wanted to scream

And those they forgot existed