Steve

 
From: "dakotakwolf@PROTECTED p.p. PEOPLE who still give a shit" <people@PROTECTED>
Date: June 1st 2018
I managed to get this poem published so now people all over can appreciate our Steve.

It's been three years, Steve, and we still miss you so very much.

STEVE

 

He lived alone

not by choice

it never worked out

constant search

like a kicked puppy always returning for more.

Two-room living quarters

hardly enough to contain

his expanding book addiction.

Always too hot or too cold,

cheap landlord

providing barely enough room

barely enough comfort.

But his Spartan existence,

funded by his janitorial job,

freed his mind and spirit

to work for social justice.

Which he did

spending every free moment

studying issues and demonstrating

for the rights of oppressed people everywhere.

He rallied for peace,

for LGBTQ rights and a living wage.

He spent nights with his six foot frame

folded into a bus seat

traveling south to support farm workers.

Under his gentle guidance

teach-ins on Gaza and prison reform

drew hundreds.

He often gave the last of that month’s

folding money to the homeless.

He died alone.

His passing unknown for several days.

Yet he is ever present

encouraging us to carry on.

 

                                                                        Karen Wolf

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