Peter Pan for President
I could have been standing there that day,
As our first African American President
Was ushered into office.
I would have been wrapping my coat about me-
Barring my pale white skin from the
Late January chill.
Barack Obama’s powerful words about
What our country is currently facing
And what America has to do-
How Americans can help pull through-
Would have fallen into my ears
And I would have felt proud.
I would have felt a glow-
Love of my country,
Love of my common people,
Adoration,
A hope.
But—I was not present at the inauguration.
Nor did I watch it-
I admit a small twinge of regret when I say this.
Nay, I did not park myself in front of the television
To hear sound waves that tell me
Obama spoke of hope
For our country.
No, at the time I was in bed,
Ill with a cold that took up my lungs.
Accompanied by balls of tissues,
I was reading
(As I always do when I am unwell)
Peter Pan.
There is something magic in those pages,
Something healing-
And it has never failed me.
The hope of childhood,
That innocence,
And overcoming all-
Why, in fact, I did attend the inauguration-
Did no one else see-
In the corner of the television-
Peter Pan cockily standing next to our new President
While Tinker Bell sprinkled pixie dust over the crowd?
Were the hopeful Americans present not flying?
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Peppermints
They sit on our oak living room table,
Accompanied by coffee table books-
Philosophy in Knock-Knock Jokes and Amy Brown’s Fairies,
Movies in the Making and Monet’s Greatest Work-
And dried roses that once were a bouquet
Either my roommate or I received from a date gone bad-
We, to this day, can’t remember who the roses belong to.
We inherited the peppermints in early December
From one of our mothers in a care package-
And half of them got used to make Christmas cookies
That got eaten far too quickly
Or given away for cheaper Christmas gifts
For work acquaintances-
To show them we “care”.
The rest of the peppermints sit dejectedly on the front table-
Still resting in their green and red striped wrappers,
Melancholy in their peppermint
And spearmint flavouring.
Of course, I assume sadness about the unused candies-
But perhaps the peppermints rejoice!
How very easy it is, in my minds eye,
To see glad little sugary delights
Dancing in their plastic wrappers,
Making crinkly music
That only they can hear-
A fiesta of survival,
A party of life!