Inside the Cheese Revolution: Poetry in Motion
Dancing with Liberty
(Madison, Wisconsin, February 19, 2011)
My friend called to say, “I’m waiting
at the top of State,” but I was across
the square, so I kept walking with the crowd
past the media stands where a few angry
men screamed through bullhorns while
we answered the call: Show me what
Democracy looks like, singing back over
and over, This is what Democracy
looks like, the marchers slowing to let
parents with strollers cross to the Capital,
past the costumed onlookers, past the sax
player giving us “Solidarity Forever,”
past the Harley-jacketed family, past
“Queers from Chicago” with raised fists,
Show me what Democracy looks like—
This is what Democracy looks like—
but at the top of State, amid thousands
of marchers, my friend and I could not
find each other, so I called and told her,
“Look for the man dressed as Liberty,”
and cut through the crowd to stand
beside a young black man in green silk
and a plastic-foam Lady Liberty crown—
Show me what Democracy looks like—
This is what Democracy looks like—
and he told me he was from Milwaukee,
and that his mother was a teacher,
and I told him I was from Alaska
and my father was in the service,
and all the while music was pounding
out from the Capital steps, and after
a few minutes we were dancing to
Michael Jackson, swaying and pumping
our arms, Show me what Democracy
looks like—This is what Democracy
looks like—and somehow, my friend
never did find me, and none of us
who are hoping for justice know
whether we will find it, now or soon
or never, but what the heck, my friends,
isn’t this what Democracy looks like:
each of us, all of us, dancing with Liberty?
-Patricia Monaghan Used by permission.
(Madison, Wisconsin, February 19, 2011)
My friend called to say, “I’m waiting
at the top of State,” but I was across
the square, so I kept walking with the crowd
past the media stands where a few angry
men screamed through bullhorns while
we answered the call: Show me what
Democracy looks like, singing back over
and over, This is what Democracy
looks like, the marchers slowing to let
parents with strollers cross to the Capital,
past the costumed onlookers, past the sax
player giving us “Solidarity Forever,”
past the Harley-jacketed family, past
“Queers from Chicago” with raised fists,
Show me what Democracy looks like—
This is what Democracy looks like—
but at the top of State, amid thousands
of marchers, my friend and I could not
find each other, so I called and told her,
“Look for the man dressed as Liberty,”
and cut through the crowd to stand
beside a young black man in green silk
and a plastic-foam Lady Liberty crown—
Show me what Democracy looks like—
This is what Democracy looks like—
and he told me he was from Milwaukee,
and that his mother was a teacher,
and I told him I was from Alaska
and my father was in the service,
and all the while music was pounding
out from the Capital steps, and after
a few minutes we were dancing to
Michael Jackson, swaying and pumping
our arms, Show me what Democracy
looks like—This is what Democracy
looks like—and somehow, my friend
never did find me, and none of us
who are hoping for justice know
whether we will find it, now or soon
or never, but what the heck, my friends,
isn’t this what Democracy looks like:
each of us, all of us, dancing with Liberty?
-Patricia Monaghan Used by permission.
