It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.
It went on.
You were innocent or you were guilty.
Actions were taken, or not.
At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.
Mostly, it seems you were silent — what could you say?
Now it is almost over.
Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.
It does this not in forgiveness –
between you, there is nothing to forgive –
but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment
he sees the bread is finished with transformation.
Eating, too, is now a thing only for others.
It doesn’t matter what they will make of you
or your days: they will be wrong,
they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.
Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.
This poem was read at my book club tonight. Although it's not talking of the election, it kind of made me think of my emotions over the last week. Today was stressful at school because most of the kids were dumb asses. Yep, I said it. I, however, have not been able to control the occasional giggle that popped up periodically when I thought of the election results. Did you see the electoral map? Iowa is BLUE! Heck, even Florida can be shades of blue. Although I did hide from the media and news, I appreciate all of the texts I received telling me of the win. Life is good. Now I need to call my friend in DC to see if she wants house guests for the inauguration.
Comments
the poem does make me refeel the feelings I had Tuesday night as well.