It’s been ages since I’ve posted anything here. With the blogosphere so congested with voices, I suppose I began to feel a little self-indulgent and silly about this whole enterprise. But I interrupt this hiatus with something different: A poem. Yep, I wrote an honest-to-goodness poem. (Please note that I am not claiming it to be a good poem, but it’s an honest poem.) I think it has been about 20 years since I have attempted to write a serious poem (I’m told stupid limericks and crappy song parodies don’t count.)
But whatever it is that moves people to write poems recently moved me. It’s cliché, but I suppose I just needed an outlet. In her recent speech at the Golden Globes, Meryl Streep quoted the dearly departed Carrie Fisher, and I suppose that stirred something.
I don’t paint, or draw, or sing. I dance a little, but I’m rusty and probably lack the flexibility to really express myself in movement…though that might be fun embarrassing to try. Given my scarcity of talents, words are pretty much all I’ve got to make art. So here goes…
Inauguration
The year I first gave birth
Markets crashed, panic simmered
Then Hope
Like a buoy, marking the way in the storm
Something to cling to
The only thing that made sense
My franchise was festive
We willingly waited in line
To surrender our cynicism
To a gentleman and a scholar
With great taste in women
Let me be clear, he said
Too good to be true, I thought
But he did the impossible, imperfect work
Gracious and cool
His balance, always checked
It took eight years
For my baby to transfigure to beautiful boy
Eight years for smoldering fear to catch fire
Flames fanned by vainglorious thumbs
At five o’clock in the morning
My incredulous optimism
Gave no sanctuary to the possibility
It seemed a joke that went too far
A cruel prank, a disastrous dare
That broke our bleeding hearts
On a warm, but bitter January morning
Snowflakes sublimated in the heat of hate
Hope seems dim while storm clouds gather
But soon again, it will rain
I might cry a little bit today, but then, I may try to write some more. If we all make some art out of this, then at least the world is going to be a richer and more beautiful place.
Stay strong, Snowflakes.
I Missed The Memo 