A Silent Protest
The world is wide
and dark
and beautiful.
I wish you could see it
from where you sit
on your continent-sized island.
I wish you could see
what I see.
Wherever you go,
you can find
antibacterial soap,
extension cords,
Q-tips,
Dove shampoo,
and Coke,
because people need the same things.
ATM’s have buttons
in the same places.
Someone will help you
figure out the bus system
if you ask.
Hot drinks unlock secrets,
no matter the weather.
A soccer ball
makes instant friends.
And should you need
fruit, rice, eggs, dish-scrubbers or detergent,
it’s only as far as the corner.
In a “dangerous” country,
total strangers will pick you up
from the side of the road,
drive you where you want to go
—free of charge—
and offer you their number
in case you should need any help.
I told a woman
that her picture would be beautiful
if she took it from this angle.
“Our nations do not like each other,” she said,
then thanked me.
We took a selfie together.
We make different sounds,
but some things are universal:
a smile,
a hand over a heart,
an inclining of the head,
a lingering touch.
Love,
without speech.
Governments are not people.
For every shout of fear,
hatred,
or anger
there are ten thousand silent protests;
and traveling is
learning to teleport.
The more you do it,
the easier it becomes to walk through walls.
A note from the author: Please note that from now on the blog will be password protected. This is to protect the identity of our partners as well as our team as we continue to travel. I will try to put the password in the email description for each time, in case you should forget! Please do not share the password on social media; if someone asks, direct them to me personally. Thank you!
