Once a week, I cry
Helpless tears for lost dreams fall
On hard party lines.
– by D.L. Chilson, February 2017
I admit it- I’m having trouble with the results of the 2016 elections. I’m a lover of history, literature and as such, also politics. I love the little nuances, the behind the scenes stuff that turns current issues into dramatic historical facts. These are things that fuel great literature and great thinkers, inspire revolutionaries and bold new worlds.
I’ve read about turning points in human history. Times of great struggle and conflict. Of clashing ideals and policies.
I never realized I’d be living in such times. Where the future of so many people hung in the balance while our political parties fight for control the White House.
Our president is at best a political pawn and at worst, the next Adolf Hitler. I’m still trying to decide which I think he is.
In the weeks since he was sworn in, however, at least once a week, I am suddenly overcome by tears and deep sorrow by something done by his new administration. And they aren’t even all confirmed yet.
Tonight as I write this commentary, I listen to my daughter (straight A grades, honor roll, wants to be a nurse someday) reading Keats ‘Ode to a Nightingale’ and realize that dreams dashed in today’s confirmation hearings aren’t mine, but hers. And her brother’s. And those of so many other children.
And my tears flow again.