I Felt the Bern
It’s just not time for your tsunami.
You rocked millennial faults,
shook the china off the old-guard, status-quo armoire.
Your aftershocks resurrected the Jesus lovers.
Like useless wasps, the pro-lifers woke up buzzing-mad.
You were the building wired
to reconfigure the whole block.
Someone hit the switch too soon,
a deconstruction hitch. Our future, and yours, deferred.
You were the one who started the temblor,
ignited the fire, preached reconstruction
You introduced us to what our world could be.
You were the comforting fire at which
we rubbed our hands together, sealing our
ballots after stormy hatred and chilly debates.
One future day the fire will comfort again.
Will it warm you and me?
Remember the hordes that gave you
rock-star cachet? They are the voting future.
Those who staffed the picketing chaos are the past.
We pull up the boots of hope, ignore the blisters,
and keep trudging forward.
Thank you for showing me politics isn’t
all dollars, prejudice and stolen freedoms.
I felt the Bern. I always will.