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Patricia Mackintosh Poem
Wheels spin, board flies. Through the air, streets, the city.
Making my own path, benches, rails, free to ride, glide.
Suddenly stops.
Can’t go here, there, anywhere.
Danger, menace, in the crowd, no longer allowed.
People with power take ours, don’t grind, unwind. Protect the streets, places, spaces.
They give us our own places.
Spaces to hide our faces.
No longer a danger or threat. Nothing to fear. Our voice they don’t hear. No longer free, the enemy.
With no war.
Copyright © Patricia Mackintosh | Year Posted 2014
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