Occupy Poetry

When They Ask Me Why, I Say...

BY Jalyssa Elliott

This movement touches something in me much too profound to ever describe with words. I was always the type to watch uprisings and protests on tv or reading about them online. Finding stories in books and articles, stripping them from the plots of favorite movies. Always passionate and inspired by the truth but never driven enough to take part. As the years progressed I found myself paying more and more attention to the decay, the lies seeping through a fragile psyche. I pushed inside of myself for a reason as to why things felt so wrong. I couldnt fathom the thought of a failed system. The system was all I knew for so long. Institutionalized completely. Blinded by heavy doses of medications and propaganda. Eventually I was able to peek beneath the haze and hear things I had never listened to before. In the midst of learning myself I found Occupy. Or, rather, it found me. In a time when things seemed bleaker than they had ever been. In a time when I no longer had the haze to shield me from reality. A movement was rising and shifting to tilt the axis. There were others who had felt displaced. Who had been shafted. Who had fallen through the cracks of a depressingly fallible system. Left behind or ignored, others voices had been stifled. And they found me. Listlessly channel flipping. Following the politics and the rhetoric with a growing sense of disillusionment. A revolution was beckoning the long since hushed voice within. It heard the call and found its way to my heart. It spoke and said Rise Up. Shake loose those chains and the bindings you've grown so accustomed to. Feel the beating heart of generations coming together as one for the greater good. My heart was occupied before I knew what Occupy really was. And I will never be the same. And neither will this nation. Thats more than worth it.


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