President elect Obama has come far enough from where
none has come before, we wanted very much to touch
him but could not, many of us feared we did not know him,
but wanted to, we feared his blackened face and hands
would weaken us, and his arrogant wooly hair barked orders at the tree
of many tomorrows, moon, moon, when you shine, illuminate his
shadow for there is a remote chance some of us will turn into
wild beasts, not equally impressed and comforted by a servant
lord bearer of black lightning, intellect and lust, his questionable past
gnawing at our souls, we can, yes, we can sleep
sleep soundly now, for the clay rumbling in his chest,
will cool his blood during the day, and at night he will
fall asleep tired while his wife whispers into his mouth
the many names of our Lord.
This is one of my own clay sculptures. From this to President-Elect, long journey his destination becoming our future.