This poem is my reflection on a crazy week in American life, where the Republican Administration’s tariff policy has pushed stocks down into bear market territory (the S&P 500 is down 14%, the Dow is down 12%, and the Nasdaq is down nearly 16%) and over 3.5 million people joined forces in over 1300 #HandsOff protests on Saturday, all across the country.
Reflecting over the weekend, I feel that it marks a shift—not just in the streets, but in the atmosphere.
Feet on pavement. Signs in hand. Not a roar, but a pulse. The sound of waking up.
This piece is about that moment when the crowd becomes something more than bodies—when presence becomes proof, and resonance becomes power.
Not inevitability—but ignition.
Three million heartsbeating in rhythm,writing resolveon cardboardand sidewalks.
Thank you for listening to Brittle Sounds. If it speaks to something in you, subscribe. This is where I’ll keep writing from.
*If you’d prefer to read, you’ll find the written version here:
