Rally at 7am, Court Hearing at 9am and New Poem

I just received an email saying that the rally at the Federal Court House in St. Paul starts at 7am. The court hearing for the appeal begins at 9am.

316 North Robert Street
St. Paul, MN

Please send your thoughts and prayers to Fong Lee's family as they continue to seek justice for their son and brother.

My dear friend, Kao Kue, and I are collaborating on a poem/performance piece for Fong Lee.  In support of his family, I will share my poem here.

In love and struggle,
Michelle

"Our Women's Work: A Story Cloth Poem In Memory of Fong Lee"   (She #)

By Michelle Myers

It is a time of grieving:

The earth howls to the trees.

The trees shake loose their leaves.

The birds refuse to leave the land.

The wind shudders in the sky.

And our souls rattle in our skins. 

It is a time of praying:

We press together our aching palms

and bury our knees beneath the dirt.

We place our hands upon still-open wounds

as the earth heaves under our fingertips:

The pain is immense.

We cannot wait any longer—

Our women's work must begin. 

It is a time of healing:

We clasp the fingers of 

Our mothers, sisters, grandmothers, daughters.

We sing in prayer.

We sing in defiance.

We sing in love.

We sing in vengeance.

We sing in peace.

Brother, you can let go now, we chant.

Son, you can fly away now, we comfort.

Brother, we release your spirit, we assure.

Son, you are free from earthly bindings, we proclaim.

Our voices weave safe passage past threadbare spirits 

who covet our patch-work coat of love. 

It is a time of avenging:

As the spirit of our brother, our son, makes his journey

We stand with one fist raised and one palm open—

We look with an intent gaze and our chins up—

We speak with our voices clear and reveal our spirits true—

while the false and wicked cower before us,

We dare those others who would try to stop us:

We promise you, we say to them—

Our resolve is as sharp as our memory.

Eventually, we will sever your loose ends from our sky.

We will restitch justice in the fabric of the clouds,

and we will rethread hope with the rays of the sun. 

It is a time of renewal:

The earth meditates beneath the trees.

The trees gather their fallen leaves.

The birds stand on tiptoe at the summit's edge.

The wind stretches in the sky.

And our souls mend slowly within our delicate skins.

Our Brother—

Our Son—

Our tongues now have the strength to write your story into the air

And we wield its truth on our breath in this life

so that you may be at peace in the next. 

For You—

We will stand.

We will speak.

We will live.