Yesterday I asked Terry Tempest Williams if she was out of jail yet. Her
reply, which she said I could share with friends, Bert

Dearest Bert:

Yes, I am out of jail. And here we are hours from war. I appreciated
receiving the NYTimes editorial. You are right, it articulates perfectly our
feelings. As they say in Italy, "Thanks God." Just returned from a bend in
the Platte River where nine million years of perfection in the form of
sandhill cranes gather. I am so grateful to have these images in my mind now
-- winged peace. Prior to the witnessing the cranes, I was in DC for the
last ten days --beyond words -The intensity of the capital is palpable --

Sam Hamill asked if I would accompany William Merwin and him to deliver the
13,000 poems against the war to Congress. On March 5, we presented the poems
to the Democratic Progressive Caucas. (Forgive my spelling, I'm exhausted).
Congresswoman Marcie Kaptur from Ohio was amazing saying "What we need most
right now are words." Kucinich (sp.) also from Ohio who as you know is
running for president, quoted Aristotle and Plato. He was truly eloquent.
And John Conyer moved people to tears when he spoke about the power of
poetry to change society. "Words were what moved all of us to the streets to
follow Dr. King."William then read his new poem, "Ogres." I had to fight
back the tears. When asked if he thought this would have any affect on
President (Resident) Bush, Merwin said, "We are under no illusions. It is
our gesture on behalf of democracy. Why would this move an illiterate and
illegitimate president?" It was very, very rich -- allowing me to believe
there is still some semblance of democracy in this nation of ours.

On Saturday, there was the "Code Pink" Rally at Martin Luther King Park. I
honestly cannot articulate the power of that day -- When Michelle Shocked (a
former Mormon) stood up on stage and put on a burqa made from American flags
-- and then belted out in the power of her voice, "The Ballad of Penny
Evans". People were physically stunned -- the recognition of, the truth of
that gesture. Again, the tears. We walked four miles or so to Lafayette Park
directly across from The White House only to find a blockade of police
dressed in black, bullit proof vests, rifles, clubs --standing shoulder to
shoulder. We were not allowed to enter the park, this park that is a public
park, this park I had just sat in hours before, this park where "Pro-life
demonstrators" were standing in with their hideous, brutal pictures. They
were standing in front of The White House -- where we could not. We tried to
negotiate with the police. It was clear they could barely uphold the law
they were being asked to enforce. We made the decision that 25 of us would
test the waters......Rachel Bagby, one of the most powerful, beautiful
African American women, began singing with the strength of her voice (her
voice is legendary). She began singing, "All we are saying....is give peace
a chance."

She would not stop. We joined her, thousands of women joined in
this song. Her eyes locked on the African american policeman blocking her.
His eyes met hers......and in that moment, you could see the instant
recognition that both of them were there because of dissent, the
dissent of their mothers and fathers before them. He quietly stepped to the
side and created an opening, the opening we walked through. This is how I
remember it. Once "inside" we walked toward the White House, now prohibited.
Slowly, incrementally, we just kept walking backwords, singing, quietly,
peacefully. The police said our arrest was imminent. That at 4:05 p.m. they
would begin the arrests if we did not leave. 4:05 came, 4:10, 4:20 -- We had
managed to simply be there, as people have always been allowed to be there
before all this "Homeland Security". The local captain of the police said he
was not going to arrest us. He then asked, Nina Utne in a whisper, if he
could have a Code Pink button for his wife.

The atmosphere changed abruptly when the federal police arrived. They
arrested Amy Goodman of Democracy Now,press -- They took her camera.
Shewas yelling, "You cannot arrest me I am press, I am protected by the
First AmendmentI am bearing witness. I am not with these women." It
didn't matter. They then went over and arrested a second press person,
took her camera. It was only then, I became frightened.

We kept walking until our heals touched the White House fence. We turned and
faced The White House....our "illegal act." Two cars arrived and wagons --
the FBI police arrived, set up a tripod with a video camera and filmed us,
each one of us -- after they were done -- the arrests began Can I tell you
what that felt like to watch Alice Walker, Maxine Hong Kingston, Susan
Griffin and the Reverend Patricia (I have forgotten her last name) who had
just returned from Iraq handcuffed, photographed like criminals against a
white sheet taped to the paddy wagon and taken away? Can I tell you what it
felt like to be stripped of all possesions, notebook, pen, handcuffed,
photographed, then yanked into the back of a dark vehicle and shoved into a
makeshift cell and find yourself sitting next to Amy Goodman who almost died
in Timor -- and then hear the door slam shut and locked. I smiled and asked
her what breed she was. It felt like being inside a dog pound.

In the back of the vehicle, we listened to these women tell their stories about
what was it in their lives that brought them to this place. None of us had any
intention of being arrested. And then we were taken to Anacostia Corrections
Facility, booked, fingerprinted, and locked in a cell. Alice, Maxine, and I
were in one cell with a brave student named Holly, 19 years old, and a
wonderful housewife from Houston whotold us her name was "Mrs. McWhorter."
Four hours later, we were released. As Maxine said, "It was the least we
could do." The police at the Correctional Unit were quite wonderful. Nobody
has the will to uphold these newly instated laws and regulations.

Our citation is for "Stationary demonstration in front of The White House
(restricted)" A direct quote. When we were released -- we walked out of the
fenced compound to the edge of the Anacostia River, a Superfund site, where
as Bob Hass put it "the shit of Congress flows" and were met by other women
who were there to drive us home. I walked into my hotel where Brooke was
waiting -- well, you can imagine. Two days later, hundreds of young
activists, many part of the Sierra Student Coalition, arrived to lobby
Congress on the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. They were on fire, so
idealistic and impassioned for the wild. It made me weep to hear of their
hope and strength and resolve. They had organized a rally for the Arctic and
Utah Wilderness on the hill, with their own student speakers and all.

They had invited a congressman or two. Now, because of General Ashcroft,
they have initiated a new rule that after a member of Congress speaks, the
gathering must be broken up -- so of course, the kids, not knowing of this
new rule by our fascist government, deferred to the Congressman and allowed
him to speak first -- Then, the police ordered the rally to be shut down.
Can you believe it? The kids did not get to speak, did not get to gather in
the name of democracy, did not get to celebrate and defend their arguments
as to why the Arctic must be saved. They began to protest, but were quickly
silenced. The look on their faces, Bert. And now, it looks as though the
vote on whether or not we will drill in the Arctic, one of the most symbolic
and critical bills to ever enter the Senate floor, will be I think of Mardy
in Moose, sitting in her chair, the legacy she carries -- as she continues
to dream her days with a century of images, I pray her fierce commitment as
to why the Arctic matters will rise and find its way into the minds and
cells of our lawmakers. That the ghosts of Olaus and Ade and Celia Hunter
will haunt the halls of Congress now.....that there might be a stampede of
caribou spirits run through the Capital..... Do you feel hopeful regarding
the vote on the Arctic, Bert? Forgive this long letter, but my heart is full
and what can we do but tell our stories and stand on our ground, even as we
go to war. I read the other day in one of the poems sent to Congress that
"our personal anarchy is composed of deep pain and intense joys."

Love to you, Terry