Inspired by 'my' favorite candidate: John Edwards
who dropped out of the race Jan. 30/08, after this was written:
A piece of pure confession; wishful thinking; historical whimsy.

"Well, the tragedy is over. The failure is complete. I turn my head and go away.
I took my share in this fight for the impossible." ~Albert Camus

Your passion speaks to me,
distinctively, with a lilt of local accent,
soft as Southern Comfort, with a kick.
And sweet as it is to these ears,
a swig goes down smooth—the taste translates—
and the tone deaf switch gears.
For the change-challenged: A chaser,
and your message moves the conversation.
Or, ignored,
100 proof will pack a punch, from sips.

Straight talk in dulcet tones,
is more potent than it seems—I feel it.
Seems to me, transcends
the self—You mean it. The delivery
is in the body language—Read it.
You exude youth, in maturity,
and energy, sincerity—I see it:
You want so much to serve.
I want it, too, feeding hope.
To fear your efforts fail, hurts.

You remind me who inspired me,
made me believe—in Peace Corps,
in Camelot—Kennedy.
The look. The moral force.
Reviving kindred cares,
(then, was a Cold War scare)
of a future I dare hope for—like before—
with you to lead, and help us bear,
repair the backdraft
of the last man’s reckless acts.

You’re Southern and self-made—
and, sadly, white and Southern male
doesn’t resonate like black and female—
an underdog, among the rock-star, media,
darlings, and the monied.
The man we’ve seen fight for what’s right
in the past; and need you
to fight to the last,
should your cause—our voice—be lost.



© Helga Ross 2008  

Listen for yourself: