Whatever Comes Tomorrow...

some lyrics for a hopeful song

Maybe you, like me, are feeling an uneasy disempowerment about the presidential election. As in any national election, it feels like the levers of change are far beyond our individual grip. Still, the questions linger: Was there more I could have, should have done to usher in the world I want to see? How will I rise to meet the coming moment? Take in a deep breath. Grab a piece of paper and a pen; title it "Whatever comes tomorrow…” and start writing your plan.

From there, I wrote this poem, with the hope it might reach you and offer even a little bit of light in this dark time. Exhale. Keep going.

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Whatever Comes Tomorrow  -  T.S. Leonard - 11/3/2024

today will be a distant past. The fall will burn bright gold
and loud with change. My sister will strain her voice
teaching the second grade about kindness. My postman
will sing all the way down the street. Blue jays will learn
to mimic hawks, little screeches. In Georgia, we’ll rely
on migrants' hands to harvest peaches. In Ohio, we’ll try
to clean up the mess left from politicians’ speeches, lies;
librarians will be like lanterns for lost kids needing language.
Tundra swans will seek temporary shelter on the Mississippi River,
tens of thousands of them in a row, whistling in the wind.
My friends will have to call about their health insurance, 
make up lyrics for the hold music. Sweetgum trunks 
will hoard their waning light; gulls will fish. Two strangers
will meet, unaware of the shared life they will soon build;
many tomorrows later, one of them will tell it like a story:
remember where you were that day? We will laugh along:
yes, you say, I remember crying; I remember having noticed
the tree across the way turning, inevitably, its brief new hue;
you will say, I remember I had to go to work that morning—
you will say, there was so much more left for us to do.

Wolfgang Tillmans, Shaker Rainbow, 1998.