People Who

Those people lock the door before us
And stay on the other side.
They inject us with poison
And electrocute our soul.
They are those who hold the keys
And pull all the strings.

Those people take our money
And use it to build prisons.
They go home at night to suburban houses
Where we are not allowed to live.

We the people are People Who
Are cherished by none
Except our own.

Our feet move to the beat of free verse,
And our souls sing in silent places.
Warm blood flows through invisible hearts
That can't be treated.

We are not puppets, there are no strings attached.
We cut the cord and walk through open doors.

We are People Who
Leap and dare to imagine.
We spend our talent
Furnishing the place of hope.
We are people who will treat those others
By acting out, and dreaming.

Those people are People Who
Are our own.
We are people who
Also care for them.

Sally Clay
Million Mad March
May 2, 1998

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