Honoring Our Election of Obama


This poem I present in homage to the overwhelming and outpouring national heart-energy in our election of Barack Obama to be our next President. Having lived through the idealistic 60s (when some of us literally saw castles in the air), not until now have I seen such an abundance, in now realistic and practical terms, of good will and hope for true change. Yes We Can, God willing, and may He pour His blessings on 44th President Barack Hussein Obama, and all of us, in the United States and the rest of the world, after nearly a decade of tragically mindless destruction, both inwardly and outwardly. Amen.


Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point — Blaise Pascal

The heart has reason to believe its tropical islands will bloom
giant scarlet palm trees whose
spraying spathes make golden pinwheels in a
bright blue sky

The heart has reason to believe the secret door to Allah’s private
chamber opens here without benefit of lock
but whose key is that murmur on the lips of a lover
that reverberates through our bones to the
earth-bound bottoms of our toes

The heart has reason to believe in a sky whose opening eyelid
shows an eye that goes on and on into oracular oblivion
seeing every creation He’s ever created from
time before time to time after time has expired

The heart has reason to believe it’s riding a
team of wild white horses going at full gallop through all
the worlds and all the world’s oceans at once
to run along a shore brought to life as we pass
whose faces open like white roses and whose
voices chime like silver bells

The heart has reason to believe the heart’s God’s residence
and we enter it with caution and with care
with courage and bravado for He’s waiting there for our
entrance and His Face is already coming into focus in our sphere

The heart has reason to believe all this by the simple fact of being a heart
and not a steamboat or a plank of wood floating on black water
where moonlight cannot reach

And the spaces between the heart’s beats are orbital dimensions
complete worlds come to birth in

and the beats themselves are His Name
as He names the worlds that come to birth

How can we not be delirious with love under these
perfect climactic conditions!

When He beckons us toward Him by the very
organ that keeps us alive

in the very chambers He’s created for His voice
to echo and reecho in

calling us home!

11/15/2002 (from Through Rose Colored Glasses)

Categories: Poems, Prayer, Misc