Small eager faces gathered around
A shriveled tiny woman in a cozy arm chair
The bedtime ritual of spoken word comfort
Envelopes rapt cherubim
Quivering hands remove the faded box top
Showing and telling worn papers and pictures
Recreating the fierce urgency of now
For those whose now was her now 50 years ago
So unlike the now of those now’s long past
This now is free of collective labeling
Faces flush with pride as the little voice shouts
“Barack Obama is the 44th President! ”
The same way it was announced the first time of the new time
Telling young ones about the time hope walked among people
Kept her old bones animated and supple
She was happy to tell how men of war and greed and hatred
Were rooted out
As hope, and faith and humanity seeds were planted by a man of change
and Color
Happiest when telling them color wasn’t his defining link
She hunched forward to whisper
“He linked us together with hope and change! ”
“Hand me my box and remember, hope and change are the tools.”
Little hands clapped with glee as pictures and papers returned to the box
And we the children’s children’s children of people once linked by chains
Save papers and pictures to tell the story of burgeoning new America
Changing
In the time of Obama
another great piece. top to bottom a great poem. i loved it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well, here comes the wind of change, in need to change the whole nation.Hopefully, Obama is the man.