WAKING IN TRUMP’S AMERICA
Jan Steckel
The Statue of Liberty’s arm is tired.
She may have torn her rotator cuff.
She still has dual citizenship,
wonders if her passport is in order.
She imagines lowering her arm,
dousing the torch in the harbor,
boiling the sea and seething Ellis Island.
Friends, look at the person next to you.
Put your arm around their shoulder.
Help them keep that torch in the air.
Tell them you’d never turn them in.
We’re the resistance now.
‘We are the resistance now’.
I so much agree. The words remind me of a poem by Remco Campert. It is in my thoughts often these days. To give you some context: Jan Campert, journalist, poet, writer and member of the Dutch Resistance in the Second World War, was killed in 1943 in camp Neuengamme.
Remco, his son, also poet and writer wrote this:
Resistance
Resistance does not begin with grandiose words
but with little deeds
like a storm with a gentle rustling of leaves
or the cat with a fit of madness in his head
like broad rivers
from a tiny source
hidden in the woods
like a sea of fire
from the selfsame match
that lights the cigarette
like love with a look a touch
something that strikes you in a voice
asking yourself a question
is how resistance begins
and then putting that question to someone else
(translation James Brockway)
Oh, my. Goes to the bone. Thank you. I might have to share this elsewhere.
Peace to you.
What a way to describe it. And an awesome responsibility, duty and opportunity. Mavis
Indeed.