by Abigail Taylor
Eyes locked. The university choral sings.
A bitter, joyful sound. 15 minutes left until
a peaceful transition of power, the 217th year.
Each visit to the podium as we await,
seems to speak a thousand more words
than spoken aloud. Reminding me of my privilege,
my pride, my humanity, and that of every other being.
I’m crying and cannot put a finger on why.
I’m humbled by my hatred for this man. But cannot
wish ill upon him. I beg, sir, please take it seriously.
I will continue to work for peace.
It is done. Onward.
© Abigail Taylor / The Lenoir Voice, 2017.