This morning I woke up singing an African spiritual (Siyahamba ku ka nyen kwen ko...). I had been dreaming that I was in my kitchen with 2 or 3 roommates and friends, cooking and singing great harmonies. The translation of the song is, "We are marching in the light of God," or, "We are marching in the light of Love." It's a much different feeling, waking up today, than waking up 4 years ago.

Here's a poem Liz sent. I'm sending it out with great thanks to Tess, my mom, Jessie, Anna, Blake and all the fine folks who invested themselves into this political stuff in some good and necessary way.

Sometimes

Sometimes things don't go, after all, from bad to worse.
Some years, muscatel faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war; elect an honest man; decide they care enough,
that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go amiss;
sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow that seemed hard frozen:
may it happen for you.

-Sheenagh Pugh