March 7, 2017. I’m not sure I have many words for the world today. We live in an age where presidents tweet unfounded statements and then double down on the outrage. At least I have terrific students, thoughtful colleagues, and an artistic teen who today came home with a ceramic chalice he made. Tomorrow I’ll wear red.
I tried to write a whole poem that sounded like Trump's tweets. The problem wasn't that it was too hard, but that it was too easy. Make America Great Again rolls off the tongue. So does "SAD" and "FAILING." Words and phrases snowball into righteous anger. Before I could start screaming about "bad hombres" or the dangerous refugees, or rage on against Obamacare, I closed my browser. I met my neighbors. I broke bread with people I did not know. I raised my glass to what free could be. I asked just how we might redeem the land, the mines, the plants, the rivers, the cities, towns, the farms and suburbs? Let America be the America we dream, not the one we wish we had been. America has never been great. But we could be. indebted to Langston Hughes