Post Convention Blues

Life is transitory,

a temporary moment

a slight breath on the wind

that in an instant, is gone.

We sit together

wringing our hands

and gnashing teeth,

speaking of hope

as the darkness settles.

Maybe if we choose

the right words

or pray the right prayer.

Another amendment,

another resolution.

Will we find our answer

in constant debate?

Trust is hard

it’s not in our nature

to give up illusions

we have nurtured.

Faith demands surrender

to all that holds our hearts

in the glamour and glitter

of the false prophets

that sing the siren song.

Crossing the foggy river

trusting the unseen pilot

the tiller out of our hands

searching for that true light.


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