Electiongate
Our grand portal moves with great strain.
Cracking open or squeezing shut,
Until it finds a new resting point
That seems in outcome as inevitable
As it can be surprising.
Like the lungs of a body politic,
Its movement forces us to exhale stasis
Reminding us of who we would be
Without the strange oxygen of change.
For some, that movement brings fresh breath,
For others a foreboding of decay.
Some may prefer the sweet perfume of
Roses on quaint picket fences,
While others crave the bracing scent of
High waves on a stormy sea.
Truth is, the space we share
Denies us such rampant choices.
Slam the portal shut and we suffocate.
Carelessly open it and destruction finds invitation.
Rhetoric evaporates as we breathe the same air
Contained not by politics, but in people.
Savor the atmosphere of common choice
And we live, together, to vote again.
Charles B. Neff
11/11/12
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Blessings,
Christine
Ron