47th President Poem: A Clouded Horizon, by Nicole Sorensen

In the dawn of the forty-seventh,
A name echoes, but with weight of doubt,
Uneducated words spill like ink,
Filling the air with mistrust and fear,
The promise of change now tainted,
Replaced by echoes of false claims.

Beneath the surface, a current surges,
Anger festered in heartbeats and breaths,
For every boast that skips on the truth,
A silence stirs, heavy with consequence,
As division seeps through the cracks,
Innocent hopes now wear thin.

Mean-spirited rhetoric clings to shadows,
A ruler unhinged from the pulse of the people,
Turning passion into echoes of resentment,
Igniting the flames of discontent and dread,
Eyes turned towards a disheartening future,
Where kindness diminishes, replaced by fear.

The unraveling of civility looms large,
As the past whispers warnings,
Reminders of hatreds rekindled,
What once felt like progress retreats,
Into the gloom of a mismanaged moment,
As anger finds a home in each declaration.

Yet within the storm, voices rise,
As sincerity threads through the darkness,
Individuals urging truth and empathy,
Finding strength in unity’s embrace,
Demanding an awakening from complacency,
Refusing to settle for false promises.

For the next four years unfold like an unsteady path,
Shaped by words that dance on the edge of deception,
Yet steadfast hearts are not easily swayed,
By the tides of distortion or hollow ambitions,
Together, we’ll navigate this tumultuous sea,
Holding fast to the belief that change is possible.

So we stand, vigilant and aware,
Charting a course through murky waters,
Determined to reclaim hope from despair,
For in the shadows of doubt, the light still flickers,
And even now, we dream of a better tomorrow,
Unyielding against the weight of undoing