Community (Page 3)

From less than a foot away, a man wearing black-framed glasses, a white dress shirt, and a red bow tie shouts through a loudspeaker at a woman wearing a flowered top, causing her hair to fly backward from the force of the sound.

One Voice (an anaphoric poem)

One voice. One mind. One nation. One people, divided.

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A cool-toned photo of human arms, with chains wrapped around their wrists, hands raised above a crowd. The chain between their wrists is breaking, expressing the message of gained freedom through fight.

Liberty, expanded (speech)

Liberty is having agency over one’s own destiny and decisions. Liberty cannot truly exist without the ability to govern what happens to and with one’s own body.

(2,739 words)

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A close-up photo of a man handing a handful of soil to a girl, who has her hands cupped just below his.

Legacy (thoughts)

Good, bad, and ugly, we have all been given a legacy. It is up to us to decide what pieces, if any, are worthy of handing down…

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The United States Declaration of Independence, lying on a wooden table, with an American flag casually draped across the table above it.

Liberty (article)

Liberty is having agency over one’s own destiny and decisions. Liberty cannot truly exist without the ability to govern what happens to and with one’s own body.

(724 words)

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A diverse group of people wait in line to vote at a local polling location.

One. (article)

After the last vote has been cast and the election is decided, the real work begins.

(813 words)

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A photo composite of vintage punk vinyl album sleeves from the late 1970s and early 1980s, including Ramones, The Clash, Sex Pistols, The Fall, Savage Republic, and Dead Kennedys. The overlayed image contains the silhouette of a spike-haired punk rocker jumping with one leg in front and the other bent backward at the knee. Overall the finished piece is red, orange, yellow, and black with elements that obscure the LP art behind it.

To me, punk is love. (thoughts)

We stand up, shout out, punch up, and don’t punch out until the message is heard loud and clear.

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A small, pink flower grows up between the unfinished, wood planks of a home deck.

Is anyone listening? (a poem)

I flay myself
on the altar of art,
cut down to the bone,
break every last part.

I write it on paper,
type it into my phone,
share it with the world,
and feel utterly alone.

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An empty school hallway with rust-colored, painted student lockers and yellow-beige walls. A single tan, covered garbage can sits aside one of the walls.

Another… (an anaphoric poem)

Another family dinner.
Another empty room.
Another grieving parent.
Another lost too soon.

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Children, young people, and seniors—8 in all—sit on swings and smile.

Perspectives (thoughts)

Incredible stories come from people of all ages.

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A blue scrap of paper held in a clothespin says Transform Old Ways (Image: Artur Szczybylo)

Steps to being a better human (thoughts)

I never said it would be easy.

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