Diary of a Creative Writing PhD student: Creator of Literary Events, Literary Talks and Creative Co-Producer of Stories at the Storey, North West Literary Salon and Characters in Motion/Off the Page Writing Development Performed Workshops.
Developer of If These Words Could Talk
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“People didn't come out to vote,” he
“The polls were empty—dead,” another
radio personality chimed in.
Maybe they were—where they were.
At my polls, they came in ones,
twos, threes—we came in fours.
The line to vote in this past
election spiraled outside of the high school’s cafeteria, up the stairs, around
the corner and down the corridor. While my children and I fidgeted, there were
few complaints. Election Day lines are nothing new in my community—my community
votes. People of varied hues, ages and demographics stood in line long after
the polls closed at 8 o’clock. We socialized, we commented, we voted—it’s what
The next morning, maybe some of us
called the radio station to challenge their claim that we were not at the
polls. Wasn’t that the intent? To incite us to comment? Maybe some of us will
write to the station. Others will wonder at the value of listening to
syndicated morning shows that don’t quite capture the realities of our communities.
Still others of us will write about it.
At the end of the day, next election
we will—one by one, two by two, three by three, or like my family, four by
four—come. We will wait, we will stand, and we will vote—again.