|Current Residence: Gulf Coast of Texas|
I don't know if this is artBut I feel like I have to get it off my chest somewhere.I don't know if this is art by nanp
When I watched President Obama's acceptance speech, two things were happening inside me---a swelling sense of the possible, a hope for the future of America I hadn't really felt since watching Neil Armstrong step onto the surface of the moon on live television . . . and a tense dread of a sniper's shot coming from the darkness to end that dream.
Because I know what kind of country I live in. I grew up in a town where the KKK still burned crosses at their annual rallies outside the city limits. I watched the Watergate trials. I saw the helicopters rising from the roof of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon. I know our dark side and our failures. I watched a great President, William Jefferson Clinton, stymied and stalled for eight years by venal, relentless, pointless Republican attacks. I saw a corporate sock puppet moron STEAL the Presidential election, TWICE.
That night, a weight lifted off my
Moments like a melodyMoments in MemoryMoments like a melody by nanp
Perhaps my favorite moment in a relationship, a love affair, a marriage is that of waking up together, drowsy and contented and in love, nothing between us under the sheets, the light coming through the window but it's Saturday, or Sunday, or perhaps vacation, no where we have to be and no particular hurry for us to get there. I could see you like that, the sun through the blinds casting radiant stripes across us, your hair scattered upon the pillow, your body warm as bread from the oven and just as delicious and nourishing.
Such moments are beautiful, and stay with us always, like a half-forgotten scrap of melody from a childhood tune, making us smile as we go about our days, stuck in meetings and in traffic, eager to return to each other's arms.
There are so many moments like that in love, sharing a glance or a bite of each other's food in a lively restaurant, an oasis of harmonious calm amidst the hustle and bustle and tinntinnabulation of the milieu, like a secret