Workers

They work, walk, stop, shop.
They go to the flea market.
Flea-free dog in tow.

…

They sit, stand, walk, work.
Giving, living selflessly.
Scruffy dog in tow.

…

They are pacifists,
conscientious objectors.
They are activists.

They made some new signs, 
and stood in silent vigil.
Until the smoke clears.

…

With their sleeves rolled up,
they use hands, heads, hearts, show up,
not shut up, let up.

Working organized,
in towns, farms, guilds, unions.
They don't waste our time.
…

Though still far from goal, 
they’re quite closer than they were 
when started walking.

While they’re not done yet,
much is better than it was
when started working.

… 

In spite of self-doubt,
they show up, stand up, speak up,
write their heart out loud.

… 

Some weep and murmur,
capturing the attention
of the merciful.

Some yell and threaten,
demanding the attention
of the powerful.

…

Some may do this, that,
moved by ignorance, greed, fear.
Misguided, off-track.

…

We are wise workers,
not wanton wild warriors.
We are gardeners.

…

To think one knows all
can hurt many, do much harm,
when wielding power.

When wielding power,
it behooves us to speak truth,
act wisely, be kind.

… 

‘Truth is a defense,’ 
said the bright, kind attorney.
May truth, light prevail.