Inauguration Day

Today is the day we honor the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. It is also the day every four years, according to our customs and laws, that we swear in the new president of our country. Much has been said about this incoming President, his influence, the creeping authoritarianism, the danger to our democracy and to many groups of people. But here in DC where I live, it feels personal. Washington is so much more than a city of monuments, a body of politicians and lobbyists, it can feel like a sleep southern town. It is filled with vibrant neighborhoods full of their own flavor. We have families with long histories and multiple generations who have thrived here. We have houses and yards and gardens and dreams. So, with that in mind, here is a prose poem I wrote thinking about the fact that this new President has no regard for the residents of this town (or this country).

prose poem

Gloomy morning.  Gloomy day.  Potentially gloomy weekend
too.  A pall hangs in the air over my home town ahead of a
new president.  A zeitgeist, a dread, a veil of anxiety and fear,
a powerless feeling of inevitability.  The weather matches the
mood.  As if the natural world also mourns what we have lost
or are set to lose in time.  The heavens weep.  The trees remain
still.  The earth thaws and chills as if feverishly fighting a
lethal disease.  Dis-ease.  Non-comfort.  It’s easy to be cozy
inside and alone.  Easy to shield myself from the gloom
outside.  But all the candles and incense in the world cannot
calm the sense of disquiet and chaos that thrums just below the
surface.  Nothing satisfies.  Nothing exists but this moment.  I
want to file it away—archive it—for a day when I need the
memory.  For a day when I have no reflection in the mirror and
I need to remember who I am.