John

John, Omak Stampede, August 2016

I am naturally cynical, pragmatic, logical. I do not believe prayers move a diety to action. 

I found myself 'praying' last night as I scrolled through pictures of protestors and recognized someone else - John. 
I met John at an event this summer. I was interviewing a young lady and John sat quietly nearby, intently listening. When she and I were finished, John stood up and held out his hand. He firmly grasped my hand in both of his and told me a story. John is disabled, his speech is garbled, but that does not stop him from interacting with everyone and being his friendly self. I had no idea what he was saying, but I loved every word as he animatedly emphasized here, raised an eyebrow there, and laughed heartedly at a punchline that only he knew. Awhile later I felt a tug at my elbow. John had changed into his dancing clothes and was going to drum that night. He motioned to my camera and then proudly mugged for a few shots.
John is unable to talk, but in the brief evening I spent with him he communicated volumes with his smile, hand gestures, drumming and dance.
As I scrolled through images from the NoDAPL protests, I recognized John. He was held in an embrace by another - someone who I know was arrested. His face was buried in the other man's chest. I wondered, was he hurt? was he scared? was he arrested too?
He can't talk. Was he one of the ones with a number written on his arm instead of a name? Was he one of the ones held in a dog kennel?
He can't talk. Were the police patient or gentle with him? Did they recognize someone who has special needs and act appropriately?
I worry and I pray.
Me. Praying.
For his safety, for everyone's safety. And a quick end to this brutal attack on peaceful protesters who are standing ground on their own treaty lands that were never ceded.