When you ask why I went to the protest,
I am speechless. I am speechless because
I even have to explain, speechless at the
Pure disgust in your voice when you ask.
I go to the protest because I cannot
Fathom not being there. Because
It matters too much to sit at home.
Someone wrote once about
Speaking out because one day it
May be you they come for and no one
Will be left to defend you but –
That’s not why it matters.
I do not protest out of a selfish
Need for reciprocation. I am there
Because how can you see the suffering
Of other human beings and not care?
How does the injustice not make your
Blood boil, make fear bubble up inside you
For the future?
How are you not speechless at the horror?
So when you ask why I traveled
Eight hours just to tell Donald Trump where
He could shove it, when you ask why I
Went back for more tear gas just to
Hammer home to the Rochester Police Department
That Black Lives Matter,
Maybe the question you should be asking is,
Why didn’t you?
This poem spoke to me deeply. You have captured the power of asking a question to a question in the hopes that they will answer so they have to examine why they sit by and let others do the hard work. Thank you for asking the questions.
Yes, I’m glad that this spoke to what I was going for! I deal with these questions quite often from my family, so this was kind of my way of trying to make them see how hurtful it is.