The Storm

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