Poem offered on September 26, 2025

by Bridget Burns, SAFE Commune Program Lead for the Foundation for Liberating Minds

You told us that Love is contraband in hell.

Here in the empire, alienation reigns,

And yet, the contraband persists…

In the private giggles of the unhoused couple that walks by,

The moment of silliness they carve out for Love to abide.

In the solidarity of workers, 

Organizing and daring to imagine that they deserve better. 

In the radical dreamers,

Who build movement after movement for life,

As they, we, are surrounded by death.

In the garden built by incarcerated women in McCloud, Oklahoma,

For their own joy, their own healing,

The People’s Garden persists.

In the queer country karaoke nights in the heart of red states, 

Releasing tension and anxiety before they suffocate.

In the Cowboys of Color Rodeo,

Generations strong. 

In the Transformative Justice circles cultivated by survivors,

Because the jails are too damn full,

And this prison system is far from what we require. 

In the blockade of former foster kids,

Facing down ICE with Indigenous elders in Portland, Oregon, 

They know the cruelty that systems bring and they will not be moved. 

In the heart of the elote guy,

And all the street vendors, the culture bearers,

Who face down gentrification, red-lining, and dirty cops,

Who bravely declare that the streets belong to the people, and they always will.

We are the weapons of mass construction,

The weapons of mass love,

That you prophesized and longed for. 

Assata Olugbala Shakur,

She who struggles, loves the people, and is thankful.

You gifted us your poems, your love, your rage, your brilliance, your fire.

Now comes the dawn that will end this empire. 

Next
Next

Beyond the Ballot