This Past Weekend (September 20 – 22, 2019)

I woke up in the morning,

had breakfast, read the newspaper,

and walked Rosie.

Then, I mounted my bicycle and rode downtown

I rode along the Schuylkill River,

down the Ben Franklin Parkway,

to City Hall

where I joined with thousands who were protesting.

We protested the destruction of the environment

and marched down 15^th street,

across Locust Street,

and back up Broad Street to City Hall

Our leader, sixteen-year-old Greta Thunberg

represented us at the United Nations, where she said:

“You have stolen my dreams and my childhood with your empty words”

“and all you can talk about is money and fairy tales of economic growth.

How dare you?”

The next day, I woke up, read the paper,

walked Rosie, and mounted my bicycle again.

I rode along the Schuylkill River,

and down the Ben Franklin Parkway, to City Hall

This time I joined with those who marched

in solidarity with the people of Puerto Rico, or Boriqua.

The people on the island experienced

the horrors of Hurricane Maria.

Then, they experienced the horrific effects

of the lack of support from the government.

As a result over 3,000 people died unnecessarily.

Then, Governor Ricardo Rosselló ridiculed the people.

Over 500,000 Puerto Ricans demonstrated

every day in 100 degree heat for two weeks,
demanding that Rosselló resign.

Rosselló felt the heat and is no longer Governor of the island.

I was scheduled to attend

a poetry event that afternoon.

But I was tired,

and took a nap instead

Then, Judi and I got in the car.

We rode along the Schuylkill River

to the Ivy League school

known as the University of Pennsylvania.

We attended a fundraising event

for the nineteen-year-old organization

Playgrounds for Palestine

We listened to a report on the reality half way around the world.

Eight-year-old children had already experienced several wars.

They have friends, or family members,

who suffered injuries, death, or prison.

We contributed, so these children might experience a bit of joy in playgrounds.

The next day I woke up, had breakfast,

read the paper, and walked Rosie.

This time I got in the car, and rode along the Schuylkill River

to a poetry event in solidarity with immigrants.

I read my poem that asked the question:

“What Does it Mean to be a Legal Person?”

My poem argued that working people, who are the large majority,

do not have full legal rights in this country.

During this weekend, I felt that I was no longer
someone who had seemingly strange ideas.
Now I feel that I'm a part of an international movement.
My poem concluded with these words:

We are the workers of the world.

While governments are determined to divide us,

we will continue to find ways of coming together,

because this is who we are.