THE NOISE THIS EVENING: a Four Part Poetry/Photo Essay on the 2020 LA Uprisings
A summer of uprisings, of direct action; of early mornings at the Mayor’s house and late nights at the Hall of Justice. Of heartbreak, of new friendships. A summer of despair, a summer of hope.
The Summer of 2020 in Los Angeles has come to a close.
A summer of uprisings, of direct action; of early mornings at the Mayor’s house and late nights at the Hall of Justice. Of heartbreak, of new friendships. A summer of despair, a summer of hope.
In this four-part series, poet and author M.G. Hughes shares four original poems alongside KNOCK.LA photographer Caroline Johnson’s 35mm photographs. Together, they ask us to pause, reflect, and meditate on the summer we leave behind.
by M.G. Hughes
Should we die,
Should we ever die so loud
And so softly,
Should we cry,
Should we ever cry out
For our mothers,
Who will proclaim
Jim Crow had a Grandchild?
Who will know the color blue as we’ve know it?
When we’re done marching,
When we’re back safe and home for the night,
Who will know the dying living lie that is America?
Who will say it?
Will somebody say it?
Should we sleep so loud and so softly
Who will know, so many years from now,
That when we said each other’s names and His name,
These streets were red and aglow with a new hallelujah?
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