Never in the four years of the Trump administration did I imagine our sides engaging in a war. Rhetorical sparring, sure. But not physical combat.
And so, on this day, I fill that hollow space in my chest with heat from a thousand thousand thousand suns:
The lists goes on and on. A long miserable soliloquy that is really only a fraction of the names that it could be. A list that leans back to the first time black people stepped onto this soil and were bought and sold on a block. No thought to their needs. Their pain. Their humanity.
And now we have his flaccid response to the Corona Crisis. The mish-mosh of declarations, proclamations, denunciations, and weak-kneed applications of assistance and action has been an abdication of Trump’s duty and power as a President.
Mother and Daughter They live in our woods. Sleep in a nest of grass between large moss covered boulders and ancient gray barked firs. When I walk by the pair they eye me with curiosity and wariness. I avert my gaze then lift my camera and click. I wonder about… Read More