Ten Masked Phantoms Passed Me By

Ten masked phantoms passed me by, each taking something
of myself — my youth, my health, my faith — swept in the whirlwind
of rushing ghosts. Two buildings and thousands of lives in New York,
The symbolic stadium in New Orleans — the floating bodies
and the unapologetic monsters they revealed. The dead of war –
parents who mourn their sons and daughters, many in languages I know not.
The paralyzing fear that made a nation surrender itself to a cowboy
for protection. The lust and greed that led to this economic catastrophe
Poverty, famine, disease. Scapegoating the foreigners. We chose change –
a victory based on a promise yet to be fulfilled. Ten masked phantoms
passed me by, each taking something of myself and when they left, arms full,
I was empty save for a novelty called “Hope.” I’m not comfortable with that.