A New Reality

     These days I wait for another political morass, another political wasteland, another beyond belief story. I expect that we are getting so accustomed to hang on by your nails diplomacy, the defenestration of common ordinary empathy, and the roll out of prevarication praised to the level of acceptability for some folks— that a compromised reality is the norm.

     We need our ballad makers, our minstrels, our artists, our journalists, our poets —especially our poets— to lead the way. We need anthems, banners, mugs with slogans. 

     Remember Take Back the Night ? 

     I am thankful for the women’s marches, for Emily’s List of female candidates, for strong women who tell stories straight, and for sweatshirts with our new slogans.

    I once owned a sweatshirt with Emma Goldman’s photo larger than life and her words emblazoned across my chest: if I can’t dance I don’t want to be part of your revolution.

    Now I wish to replace those words with another set of her words:

      To-day is the parent of to-morrow. The present casts its shadow far into the future.