Has to be one in all this waiting
for the votes to be counted,
for the silver-tongued pundits
to share their predictions.
Please, let the silver-spoon president
go back to his silver screen.
I’ll give you a silver dollar
for each day the states count their ballots.
I want each one carefully touched,
blessed, lovingly caressed.
I know, in the end, no silver bullet,
just our hearts breaking open,
finding solace in the fog’s
silver-edged sky. We know how
to get through this, how to focus
on the horizon, and as the silver mist
rises, to once again cling to hope
which pulls us like a rope to shore.
Suzy Harris lives in Portland, Oregon. Her poems have appeared most recently in Clackamas Literary Review and Williwaw and are forthcoming in Rain and Switchgrass Review. She is working on a chapbook about becoming deaf and learning to hear with a cochlear implant. She wrote this poem after reading Parker Palmer’s Healing the Heart of Democracy and while waiting for Biden’s victory to be announced.