I am completely done with requests that I stop speaking out about present injustice or future dangers to American civil society. No one is obligated to pay any attention to what I write, but I agree with Garrison Keillor who said, "I think the most un-American thing you can say is, 'You can't say that.'" Today we had a bit of weather here in Independence, so I wrote a little sonnet for my fellow activists who are also tired of being told to shut up.
A Winter for Activists
The snow began to fall in midday sun,
And sent the townsfolk scurrying inside.
The canceled school day freed the kids for fun.
The widest turns made each car slip and slide.
As flake by flake the inches grew and grew,
And just as trees hold snow until they bend.
Acquaintances online build ice walls, too.
They call for talk of politics to end.
They envy snow, the way that it piles on.
At snowball’s sting, the child’s cry it will eat.
Just so, this talk of justice they want gone,
But calls for silence won’t achieve that feat.
These shouted orders snow will not obey.
An avalanche is loud and wins the day.