Where's the Glory in That?

Saturday I stood my ground on a sidewalk, holding a sign urging passersby to boycott McDonald's cruelty. I tolerated laughter and rude gestures, verbal abuse and threats of violence. I stood my ground.

Later I got lost in the ocean. I asked the waves to carry me away to somewhere they would never find me, but somewhere from the depths she surfaced, kissing my lips: Not yet. They need you.

If I can't drown in these waves I'll ride them.

I stood my ground. They laughed at me and I looked right at them. I know you're laughing at me.

When you're young they tell you to stand up. Stand up! Stand up for what you believe in! When you grow up they laugh at you for it. When you're an adult they want you to get in line, fall in line, stand in line...

Adjust. Compute. Serve. Cater.

So you make that dollar, but I'll fucking die for this.

I'll live for it, too. I'll grow old working to chip away at that twisted argument they regurgitate. I'll get laughed at, spit at, threatened, mocked, dismissed, marginalized, and through it all I'll stand my ground. I will pester and prod and urge and convince. I know she'll never be safe... but I will fight for her anyway.

Last night was hard. Like, hard-to-believe-in-God hard. The front lines are like that. But damn, if I didn't chase down my target, ready my sites, take aim and let 'em have it.

This isn't my life anymore.