Protest
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
To sin by silence, when we should protest,
Makes cowards out of men. The human race
Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised
Against injustice, ignorance, and lust,
The inquisition yet would serve the law,
And guillotines decide our least disputes.
The few who dare, must speak and speak again
To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,
No vested power in this great day and land
Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry
Loud disapproval of existing ills;
May criticise oppression and condemn
The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws
That let the children and childbearers toil
To purchase ease for idle millionaires.
Therefore I do protest against the boast
Of independence in this mighty land.
Call no chain strong, which holds one rusted link.
Call no land free, that holds one fettered slave.
Until the manacled slim wrists of babes
Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee,
Until the mother bears no burden, save
The precious one beneath her heart, until
God’s soil is rescued from the clutch of greed
And given back to labor, let no man
Call this the land of freedom.
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My Monday and afternoon were pretty okay and the weather was warm and our next door neighbors brought us breakfast for Eid al-Fitr which was delicious and I worked on an Our Flag Means Death-themed charm bracelet which was fun, and I think I liked The Endgame season finale in which Val seemed to realize she's much more interested in Elena than Owen, though my concentration was shot.
Because while I was watching, I was also reading the leaked draft majority opinion overturning Roe v. Wade, and even if it somehow ends up not happening, five members of the court indicated that they are also willing to toss out same-sex marriage and private relations in the name of tradition. So bye America, it's been an interesting fucked-up failed experiment. Garrett Park in the rain yesterday:
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