Forum Post: Howl of the 99% by Henry Kronk

I have seen the beautiful minds of my generation confined to couches and chairs waiting Crying on their rooftops, naked angels of the 99% Mesmerized in rooms listening to the terror from the TV Silent horror wafting in through the window With the cold internet and stark knowledge for comfort One more, always one more, sad cup of coffee Trapped behind registers, held by the $10 an hour paycheck Counting the seconds until the next break, the next cigarette, hour after hour, year after year Coming home to despair and confusion Wondering: where is America? What happened to the country we learned about in cinderblock classrooms? Where is our City upon a Hill? What would you say, William Jennings Bryant? Have we lost our silver luster? Or you, Tippecanoe? What would you think of our squabbling politicians? What happens when our leaders become consumed with their own agendas? What happens when our enemies become those in the opposing party? What happens when the fiscally responsible are religious and social fanatics? Why do we have to choose between gay marriage and the health of the economy? Where is the pearl of America? Has the old cracked crusty oyster that holds it closed for good?

Im with you in Zucotti Park, weighed down by the bushy furrowed brows of the “old and the wise” Im with you in Zucotti where we do all that we can Im with you in Zucotti where, besides everything, there at least is love Im with you in Zucotti where the efforts of control are resisted Im with you in Zucotti, I can feel the pepper spray in my eyes Im with you in Zucotti where some of the filth is being washed down the drain Im with you in Zucotti where we can stomp up and down the pavement and clean some of the mud from our soles Im with you in Zucotti where the patched and threadbare fabric of our country is strongest Im with you in Zucotti where human will is infinite

While we lie in our beds at night and listen to the machine of the night We can no longer wake up and click our heels and yell like we used to: “Oh liberty, forget your underwear, we’re free.” But in our sleepless, half conscious state, We might be able to rouse ourselves and Peek out our cracked and sooty windows And see the Harvest Moon over the rooftops And hope.