Outpouring

In the aftermath of a second killing by federal agents in Minneapolis, Alison Luterman wrote “Outpouring,” a poem about the massive protests in response to ICE’s presence in the city. It’s a reflection of the enormity of emotion that these terrible events have brought forth—outrage and fear, yes, but most of all love for our neighbors.

Take care, and read well,
Nancy Holochwost, Associate Editor

Outpouring

A bucket of water tossed on the frozen streets of Minneapolis
for the ICE agent to slip on while running at the crowd of protesters;

a river of souls streaming through the avenues,
chanting Renee Good’s name, waving posters of her sunflower face;

a tsunami of people all over the world sending money and encouraging notes
to the ones buying groceries for the ones who are hiding,

afraid to go to work, or school, or the store;
everyone marching together in zero-degree weather, scared

and defiant, weathered activist or new-to-this Gen Z kid—
those with nothing to lose, those with everything,

blowing their whistles, following the black SUVs,
banging pots and pans outside the Hilton where the agents are trying to sleep,

saying, No, not in my neighborhood, saying, Macbeth
shall sleep no more, crying, Murder most foul, sleep no more:

What is this outpouring? Where’d it come from? Will it be enough?
Today we’re all Minnesotans, from California to Maine: we’re tired,

hoarse, footsore, at the ragged edge of endurance from getting up
before dawn to protect our schools, our neighbors; but there is no stopping this

outpouring of people, in all the states and in every weather while the sky
pours snow and sleet all over the blasted heath they are trying to make

of our country. Outpouring of disgust at the mad king and his masked army,
a united swell, upsurge, tidal wave of courage and outrage

flooding the streets and highways and byways
with humanity declaring itself human in the face of the faceless,

singing “Hold On” in four-part harmony, testimony rising up
and flowing forth in faith: a cascade, a deluge, a torrent of love.

This poem first appeared in ONE ART.