The Day After* ... I heard of Trump's victory, it still takes some getting used to. I couldn't believe the first time that America could elect Donald Trump, far less could I believe they elected him a second time eight years later, with an increased majority, and a deadly insurrection in between. But as Arlo Guthrie said in his wonderfully absurd Motorcycle (Significance of the Pickle) Song in far more innocent times and on nothing to do with politics - except policing politics, perhaps, 'That's America.' It is what it is.
But I want to look beyond Trump, because like each of us, he's not going to live forever.
Walking back from the bus this evening, I remembered my first job after journalism school back in 1987: working for a development NGO and reading about the problems of pollution, poverty, inequality and pernicious politics (what's changed? - only the level of intensity). I sensed then we were in the declining years of the American-Western empire. Just like the Roman Empire, it would die in the death throes of arrogance, over-reach, super-affluence (while spurning its own outcast poor) and interior moral decay. Ok, probably over-stated, but it's what I sensed as parallels.
During Trump's first reign, I posted a rhetorical question on Facebook wondering if all the prejudiced arrogance of a nation could be personifed in one person - without naming anyone.
One of the sad ironies of this second term is that I have a sister - living in the States for years - who is defiantly against him, and spoke bluntly about 'fascists' in America, long before Trump ever declared himself interested in being Ruler; and another sister here in NZ, who thought he'd be good for the country. Devisive - not only 'over there'.
I want to end this 'top of my head' random blog with a somewhat 'un-American activity' (well, the theme is, not the activity): a poem penned a long time ago; and a few words from U2 on the transience of temporal, worldly power (... And kingdoms rise / And kingdoms fall / But you go on / And on ...).
Interestingly - or prophetically? - the poem comes from a section entitled 'End Times' in a yet-to-be published book of my poetry. It may come out before the curtain falls ...
When the credits roll
When the credits rollon the last American sit-com,
the stars will still shine
and the moon will rise
clear and perfect and brilliant
above the far distant horizon.
(* title of a 1983 film about the aftermath of a full-blown nuclear war)
