I had hoped to post a picture of the no fracking pipeline sign on the corner.
This morning, a scant 12 hours after the sign was seen,
This morning, it was gone.
My voice, My passion, my mission to stop the Pipeline, Peaceably, with others at the forefront.
Me doing what I can.
Someone took my sign.
It hurts.
So instead of coming home tonight and posting my photo of the sign on the corner,
because it is gone. I had to express what was underneath all my angst this morning when someone stole something from me. In this case it is my voice they stole.
When I have been stripped of money, taxed to near death, worried about everything,
my voice is one thing I still have.
So it is not just a sign. It is a sign that expressed my viewpoint.
I cannot make it to meetings.
I blog, tweet, comment, fb, email,
all in my precious spare time.
This is what came out last night.
I also remembered feeling this way when our farmstand was robbed.
When it Hurts like the First Time,
When it Hurts like the First Time,
When they stole our bikes.
Our Aunt bought them for us,
We were poor,
It was a nice thing,
I fell in love with that bike.
3 speeds, hand brakes, Blue,
My favorite color.
Cool tires,
We picked them out ourselves,
Danny and I.
Sam got a trike.
One day we sped into the yard and parked them,
There in the front yard on east high st.,
3 doors down from the police station.
We ran up the front stairs of our house.
No doubt a race,
Forgetting the bikes.
Later,
Someone stole them.
Not only that, they destroyed them,
Stripped the gears, trashed the hand brakes,
Mom’s work helped put them back together
But scratched up and without the fancy stuff.
So today,
When I felt so proud of some neighbors for helping us express our protest of the proposed pipeline,
Other Unknown Person chose to steal the sign.
In disbelief I lost it,
Right there,
In the road,
On the way to my job,
Someone, some horrible person, stole my sign.
And it feels like the first time,
And that hurts so terribly.
When I moved to the country I thought I left behind some of the scummy people you find in the city.
It was a naïve move and not one I regret.
It is a move that makes me understand Rural life’s similarities to city life.
It also seems so petty to worry about a no fracking gas sign.
It really is the principle of it all.
And as I praise one neighbor and
Hope another sign nabber is caught in the act,
I still want the world to say,
“No Fracking…”, silently or out loud,
As often as you find tolerable.
Because this is all about a Gaz company wanting to take, Steal private property for their pipeline to big businesses.
When an unknown party stole the sign my kind neighbor left here,
They were stealing my voice.
And it hurt just like the first time.
and the anniversary of 9/1/1 reminds me of more robbery,
it all hurts
This morning, a scant 12 hours after the sign was seen,
This morning, it was gone.
My voice, My passion, my mission to stop the Pipeline, Peaceably, with others at the forefront.
Me doing what I can.
Someone took my sign.
It hurts.
So instead of coming home tonight and posting my photo of the sign on the corner,
because it is gone. I had to express what was underneath all my angst this morning when someone stole something from me. In this case it is my voice they stole.
When I have been stripped of money, taxed to near death, worried about everything,
my voice is one thing I still have.
So it is not just a sign. It is a sign that expressed my viewpoint.
I cannot make it to meetings.
I blog, tweet, comment, fb, email,
all in my precious spare time.
This is what came out last night.
I also remembered feeling this way when our farmstand was robbed.
When it Hurts like the First Time,
When it Hurts like the First Time,
When they stole our bikes.
Our Aunt bought them for us,
We were poor,
It was a nice thing,
I fell in love with that bike.
3 speeds, hand brakes, Blue,
My favorite color.
Cool tires,
We picked them out ourselves,
Danny and I.
Sam got a trike.
One day we sped into the yard and parked them,
There in the front yard on east high st.,
3 doors down from the police station.
We ran up the front stairs of our house.
No doubt a race,
Forgetting the bikes.
Later,
Someone stole them.
Not only that, they destroyed them,
Stripped the gears, trashed the hand brakes,
Mom’s work helped put them back together
But scratched up and without the fancy stuff.
So today,
When I felt so proud of some neighbors for helping us express our protest of the proposed pipeline,
Other Unknown Person chose to steal the sign.
In disbelief I lost it,
Right there,
In the road,
On the way to my job,
Someone, some horrible person, stole my sign.
And it feels like the first time,
And that hurts so terribly.
When I moved to the country I thought I left behind some of the scummy people you find in the city.
It was a naïve move and not one I regret.
It is a move that makes me understand Rural life’s similarities to city life.
It also seems so petty to worry about a no fracking gas sign.
It really is the principle of it all.
And as I praise one neighbor and
Hope another sign nabber is caught in the act,
I still want the world to say,
“No Fracking…”, silently or out loud,
As often as you find tolerable.
Because this is all about a Gaz company wanting to take, Steal private property for their pipeline to big businesses.
When an unknown party stole the sign my kind neighbor left here,
They were stealing my voice.
And it hurt just like the first time.
and the anniversary of 9/1/1 reminds me of more robbery,
it all hurts
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