This Too Is Protest

A poem

after Lore Wilbert

Holding the screaming baby
for the tired mom at her wit’s end:
this too is protest.

Calling your congressperson yet again
while on your lunch break:
this too is protest.

Dreaming of the spring flowers you’re going to plant
while it’s still the heart of winter:
this too is protest.

Helping shovel out your elderly neighbor:
this too is protest.

Welcoming the refugee,
taking care of the orphan,
befriending your neighbor,
petting a dog,
picking up trash on your street:
these too are protest
against the dirty rotten system,
against the fat cats and the billionaires,
against the power hungry politicians,
against that tug in your own heart
to shrink inward,
to avert your eyes,
until you are only eye to eye
with your own shriveled self.