Minnesota Nice v. Minnesota ICE

We noticed first the extra lights at dusk,

said nothing—just felt the air tighten with mistrust.

Held doors open, cleared walks after a snow,

we wondered silently: is this how safety is supposed to go?

We asked with Minnesota nice, careful and mild:

“Is everyone all right?”, “Are they taking a child”,

Unease folded nervously into civic grace,

believing patience still had a place.

We reacted with signs, slogans chanted slow,

hands deep in pockets during winter’s flow.

No uproar yet—just witness and time,

a faith that being seen might still incline.

Soon patterns replaced the benefit of doubt,

agents of Minnesota ICE pushing people all about.

Clouds of teargas and pepper balls raining down,

smashed windows echoing when people held their ground.

Limits we taught our children to know,

rights should not be pared thin by procedural flow.

Detained, zip-tied, dragged from street and park,

a show of force where restraint should mark.

Then came the moments we cannot reduce:

Renée Good in her car, offering truce-

“That's fine, dude. I'm not mad at you”,

her mercy spoken just before bullets shot through.

And Alex Pretti—stepping toward a woman shoved,

instinct to shield, not strike, unprovoked and ungloved.

He raised his phone to record, against chemical spray,

dragged to the pavement and shot in a ruthless display.

Don’t tell us that was law applied alone,

or policy strained, or judgment blown.

We saw the choice—the line crossed clean,

that’s when our restraint was replaced with a scream.

We have logged the orders, the actions, the shame,

what was done under color, and under whose claim.

The images of lawlessness are forever imprinted, far and near,

we trust that the long arm of justice will prevail here.