how did it feel? standing in the middle of a huge crowd, surrounded by trees in the heart of chicago, bred by the moisture of the lake and by my friends, accompanied by all and everything? vamos obama, vamos!
helicopters buzzing in the air, the revolution being televised. people talked about the chicago 7, it was a celebration even before it was.
it was pitch dark, surrounded by the symbols of power and oppression, cement towers for slaves and only a few city lights and a tv screen where we were but tv screens scattered all over, the revolution was being televised because winter in america was calling for an end.
a park bore testimony, leaves in the ground, yellow in the trees, it's autumn, but it feels like a summer night dream, spirits are dancing in the fire at the sound of buzzing helicopters in the sky.
as more people join, more will join, the world is throwing a party, it is the coming of age of long struggles. and we still wonder if race will be an issue and yet we think it will be a landslide.
even if mccain would win all the swing states, obama would still sing, yes we can, yes we can.
wait. while still ahead, we need to count, state by state, vote by vote. wait.
sometimes leaves fall from the trees, like rain, like the rain that is about to clean the dirt that resists in the oven were people are cooked. and a leave touches my heart as it falls, an instant of silence in my head. a gong.
all of a sudden, barack obama elected president, says telerevolucion. we all start jumping and shouting and dancing, millions of people, in chicago, in america, in the world, we become the electrons that gravitate around the nucleus of hope, you'd be unable to know their position and movement at the same time, millions of people, it is not one, it is many, no one can be located, we move too fast, we are too many, together but separate, it is the uncertainty principle at work, hence the certainty of hope.
for a second even mccain seems to understand what is happening, he speaks like a man, not like a rat, and palin is just standing in the back, her bridge to nowhere will take her to a long and distant star.
waiting time, we want to listen to obama, the master, the preacher of all traditions blended in one, the leader of all races and creeds, the intellectual poet. we want to listen to the man. we are one.
waiting seems to take forever even if only a couple minutes have passed. we are all excited and it is contagious. the man delivers, our team is the winner of the world series, our favorite tune is radiating the energy of change, of something better. somebody is rising to the challenge, avoiding simple recipes, and simplistic distinctions based on appearance, there is no black and no white, there is only millions of colors in between if we just had the right lenses all the time, oh, if we just had the right lenses, sometimes. but it is true, we are one, we are many but we are one. and we don't have the lenses and are in need of somebody to remind us, but now we can listen, we are blind but we can listen.
it is time to meet new galaxies, to play with them, it is time for creation and recreation, it is the time for everyone to be whatever they want to be, no duties, no obligations, it is the time to overcome darkness and embrace light. a new star is born: it's called new life.
