I've written and deleted three drafts over the past week of stories related to the fatal Katrina-sized, turkey-shot-shaped breech in the BushCo ship of state.
I am so tired. So busy. Aren't you all?
THen my son (studying his skinny ass off for AP History exams and sweetly oblivious to the fucked up now) reminded me that both our February Presidents, and most of the Black History Month figures, all turned to poetry when drumbeats and rhetoric failed.
Washington favored Seneca and Shakespeare. Lincoln totally nicked his style from the grand old Hebrews of the Old Testament. King laid down the echoes of griots and Great Awakening speechifiers with his own blood and guts slammin'.
This one by Terry Jacobus speaks to me today.
Patience
those who love for god
and those who kill for god
expect to land
on the same plane as god
dear god, even if you are nothing,
hold me tight tonight
breathe me in a womb
and hold me to the light
kiss me like the fool
kisses for love
take me the way a soul
slides through the peaceful
door
lead me in a prayer
headed for the open heart
when you are ready
you will see us all
one spirit at a time
it may take an eternity
but I'll be patient
it's worth the wait.
Happy Valentine's Day
