by Frank Kadi
While very young
I asked my father
to take me out
in a storm
Which he did
Large branches flying
An old tree falling
Wild sheets of rain
We leaned against the wind
Energy all around us
The wind tearing through our clothes
Lightning illuminating each crystal drop of rain
At 28 I still like heavy weather
But now I like the storm of the mind and the soul
I join with picket lines
for the union, for civil rights, for justice
I feel that wild energy -- solidarity
that recreates the world
And the wind does more than blow my clothes around.
Now it blows my soul and the souls of others
upwards in a spiral
towards a higher ground.
A new contract, a new civil rights law,
a new society, a poem for the people.
We are that wind
that comes howling out of us.
Solidarity with Peter, a black chief steward
who died from chemicals in a plastic plant.
Solidarity with a Chicana single mother who works in Las Vegas.
Solidarity with Anna -- auto worker, legislator, and lesbian -- who watches our back.
Unity with laid-off paper worker and Franco-American, Mark Oullete.
Solidarity across time, and across all geography
If we let ourselves be, if we act -
Then we are the wind that comes howling out of us.
The heart of the world.
Copyright 2004, Francis S. Kadi. All Rights Reserved