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a voting meditation

as I sit within the first real silence of my day
I can feel the energy of change riding along my spine
an echo from wading within the shifting tide of it
I almost recognized my authentic self, and now
in the silence, I try to reconnect with him

there are mobs of people, bouncing and skipping
chatting and prattling on about little black lead
bubbles that they made today, probably the closest
they have come to drawing in years, and they
have already washed off the charcoal with reality

the lines were shorter this evening, I feel a sense
of anticipation for an outcome like a season finale,
maybe because our ‘for the people’, ‘by the people’,
has been packaged similarly to a prime time program
without the significance of our beginnings

the steps of the past still form beneath me
with pencil in hand, as I created a world without pain,
anxiety, or heartbreak, and the shavings of yellow
were like flecks of the sun, they gave me comfort
and warmth before I knew anything about history

but those were my beginnings, young boy astride the
solidarity of our fore fathers’ contributions, doing
and being with the pencil rather than the sword, even
though it felt inadequate, I knew deep down where
truth will always live, that that path was the right one

and I once again find myself taking up the proverbial
pencil, to do battle with a crooked path, dark swirls
that I hope to hypnotize with, to set us back on a path
with a future, rather than doing things the same old way
because we are too afraid of change, or salvation

I will wait in silence, to see if what I felt was a connection
or just my hope doing gymnastics again, either way
my gratitude makes an attempt at modesty while the
world chews its fingers and waits for the dizziness to
dissipate as we all drift off into our misty dreams

wake me in four years, rip van winkle, and we can sachet
down our steps, take a deep breath, turn a sharp military
corner and lead our footsteps back to soft scratchings,
new beginnings, a cloak of patriotism, history, and the
night drum banging out our heavy tapestry of choice.

a voting meditation

jjgmail

Joined January 2008

  • Artwork Comments 4

Artwork Comments

  • deliriousgirl
  • jjgmail
  • fullcirclemandalas  is Marg Thomson
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