November 7
This is a poem I wrote about my visceral reaction to the idea of celebrating a presidential victory. Albeit provocative and perhaps pessimistic, I hope that my poem addresses those who believe that a presidential election alone can create a ‘return to normalcy’.
November 7
Out of townhomes spilled bankers and big tech
Clothed in patagonia and biden 2020 merch
(i had worn my bernie shirt:
A subtle reminder of a forgotten future,
Just beyond the pine of electoral politics)
“Finally we can breathe”
I began my walk,
Passing by tent cities and boarded up retailers known for their inclusive advertising
And police blocked off streets
In honor of the celebration
And mass-produced t-shirts and mass-produced activism
In honor of the celebration
I didn’t know that the phrase “power in numbers” only worked when it was palatable to oppressors
Maybe the breaking news event was merely the sorbet before the main dish
A new era
As i walked further and further up the hill i saw cars pass by blaring glittery renditions of patriotic classics
And pedestrians alongside the street cheering and applauding each and every car that passed by
It was almost as if the pandemic was put on hold
Public parks and private homes filled unmasked
And outdoor dining overbooked with those so desperate to be served
I began to enter a state of panic
But for what?
Isn’t this what i had hoped for?
For what need is there to complain?
Can’t we just have a day to celebrate?
THE COMPLACENT PARADISE THAT WE HAVE TEMPORARILY BROKEN FROM HAS FINALLY RETURNED.
“Finally we can breathe”
…In the CO2 of big oil lobbyists
…In the contaminated air of a PPE-free hiatus
…In the stench of state-sanctioned factory farming with their constant surplus of new and improved
Pigs
Call me a pessimist or bitter or lost within the cries of my own little echo chamber
But i have do have hope
My mom and dad say that it is
Our generation’s responsibility to fix what they did wrong
And that very day i saw very few people that looked like me
Walked like me
Spoke like me
Talked like me
Out “celebrating”
Perhaps nothing is more evident of where we stand than by who shows up and why in a time when we are supposed to be entirely inside.
