NEW YORK, NY, April 17 – Unseasonably warm air filled the streets of Manhattan as I approached the intersection of Broadway and Wall Street. I glanced to my right and found my comrades on the steps of Federal Hall.

We discussed tactics, including sleeping in packs around the financial district. Our sense of community grows stronger as the days grow warmer; a true testament to the impending American Spring.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a middle-aged woman in a fancy coat drop off a small food donation before scurrying away. I smiled; perhaps the metaphorical walls that separated us were beginning to come down. But then I saw another middle aged woman, again in fancy clothes. Only this time she was screaming profanities. As I scanned the sidewalk across the street I noticed other disgruntled members of the affluent community. It was clear by the Blue Wall between the two groups - which had grown from about 20 officers to more than 50 in a flash - that the powder keg was about to explode.

And explode it did. The police used it as an opportunity to swarm, singling out people doing nothing illegal and cuffing their wrists with the ever-popular zip-ties. The residents continued to stand opposite us, seemingly protected by their Blue Army, chanting, clapping and laughing as the NYPD spat on the First Amendment right in front of them, almost at their command. This sickening visual will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Then we began to sing - softly at first, choking back our tears until we overtook the hateful slurs—“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!”

Short bursts of calm punctuated the next few hours as we waited for midnight. When anyone attempted to amplify their voice above speaking volume, they were immediately mobbed by “white shirts” for speaking their mind, for daring to have a voice. The police climb the stairs of Federal Hall, in the shadow of George Washington, and remove occupiers by force.

But as midnight dawned, the tensions eased. The rowdy neighborhood residents were gone. It’s just us and the cops. I spent the next few hours consoling a friend whose brother was arrested. We embraced as she wept on my shoulder, wishing I could offer her more, knowing this was all she needed.

I said my farewells around 5 a.m., knowing I would be back shortly. Oddly, as I walked back to the subway the air felt warmer that it had in almost seven months. Not from the spring sun beginning to fill lower Manhattan, but from the love and loss we all shared on those steps.