Note from Kristianna: At a recent workshop we led a group of young community organizers through a guided writing exercise. The Liberation Series is the result of their passion and creativity. Enjoy.
ICE by Jesus Morales Sanchez
Tall man uniform helmet with weapons.
Cold stare, looking around. Not moving. Ready to attack.
Fear. Smells like nothing, yet its presence, its distinctive smell is there. Hard to explain.
Cold. like metal. Cold metal that doesn’t warm up. It feels hard, it feels painful, as it reaches out to grab, to detain, to hurt, to separate, to violate my space.
Bitter. Not like coffee or anything like that, but rather extremely bitter taste with a nauseating after taste.
Heavy boots stepping on a fragile wooden floor. Slow steps, metal hitting metal, my heartbeat and outside of that, dead silence.
Moms, dads, sisters, brothers, all of their blood, tears and suffering lie in your hands. You inhumane piece of shit. How dare you treat us like that. Can’t you see we just want to live? Can’t you see we just want that you’ll come back to once you clock out of your job. Fuck you. Can’t you understand we hurt? Can’t you find it within yourself to learn to love, to learn how to feel compassion? Can't you learn how to do what is right? No you can’t. I can see that now.
Go ahead. Do as you please. In the end history will be the one to judge and I know my fault will be forgiven.