This election cycle has been unlike any other. As I slowly came to terms with the inevitability of its outcome, I began to see how it mirrored some of my past romantic relationships. Oftentimes hopeful, at others unbelievably frustrating, both ultimately resulted in confusion, heartbreak, and eventually, resilience. I enter the new year with apprehension and fear of the unknown.
I understand now, that just as I (sometimes hopelessly) sought closure at the end of an ill-fated relationship, I must now do the same as our country shifts into its next phase — whatever that may entail. I want to remember, to cherish, the last eight years. Barack Obama was my first: my first presidential vote (cast via an absentee ballot on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial); my first inauguration, where I stood for hours in freezing temperatures on the National Mall, feeling a small part of a big moment in history; the first president of my generation.
Thank you, President Obama — this one’s for you.
Shallow breath beneath the brow,
steady hands shake.
Beaten heart don’t fail me now,
stop the lower lip quake.
Steady hands shake,
cold, final, fleeting.
Stop the lower lip quake,
mourn our last meeting.
Cold, final, fleeting,
mumble some sort of “good-bye.”
Mourn our last meeting,
his eyes were open wide.
Mumble some sort of “good-bye,”
nothing left to say.
His eyes were open wide,
“the same” things cannot stay.
Nothing left to say,
shallow breath beneath the brow.
“The same” things cannot stay,
Beaten heart don’t fail me now.