Daisey Bassen

Fifth wave, sixth, seventh? In 1820, the abolition of slavery was as far away as I am old

A man, walking away from power, that greatness;
A woman, rushing towards power,
without explanations
without excuses
without knowing her bright hair was a banner,
without a baby left behind, beckoning, a bellyfull
without being beautiful or not beautiful
That greatness:

When they are twin suns, circling,
When one is not the moon.

Not a star so distant it has burned itself out
When we find it, when we get there.
I’ll be the first one to rise for the ovation.
Brava.