set amidst the backdrop
of Starbucks and Barnes & Noble,
Jamba Juice and Nickelodeon Universe.
I was there for the round dance of 2012
With drumming and a thousand Native voices
filling the rotunda for treaty rights.
And the next year when they arrested two women
who had organized a protest that never happened.
I missed Black Christmas last year
but covered the trial afterward.
Today I have no notebook.
I’m not working, but I can’t stand still.
I work the room. Chatting with my artist
friends who have shown up to
mingle by the Christmas tree.
Alleen is in town for the holidays.
Carl’s having a baby soon.
Corrie gives a rundown of his new job.
Shoppers line up along the tiered balconies
Watching through their cell phones
the ground floor of the rotunda
where bodies mill about
under the hovering proclamation:
“This demonstration is not authorized”.
The storm troopers create a circle
around the people who have gathered here
Later, a photo on Facebook reveals
the riot-gear welcome brigade
under the Mall of America sign.
There will be memes, it’s that kind of day.
There’s shouting. A young man is being
taken away by three cops in bullet proof vests
One of them drops his helmet
and they have to stop for him to pick it up.
A crowd forms around the scuffle
but we are being told to move away
to head toward the trains
A short, black woman waves her arms
to us that it’s time to leave
Inside the freedom train,
the light rail to justice
We tetris together. There’s a song
but it dwindles.
So far, this has been a quiet protest
No chanting, no speeches.
We are heading somewhere
but I don’t know where.
I’m afraid in the not knowing.
But I know I’m in the right place.
I don’t know where I’m going.
But I know it’s the right direction.
