Barack Obama’s Inauguration:What A Worldwide Celebration for America, for Us Black People, and for Evryone- God Bless America

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WHAT A DAY, WHAT A MOMENT, WHAT A HISTORICAL MOMENT TO CELEBRATE

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Millions gather in Washington D.C. and around TVs all over the world to watch how the world can be changed for once. My father in Liberia and my brothers and sisters and hundreds of thousands of Liberians gather with the world around their TVs and public TVs to celebrate the birth of a new day for the world. Barack Obama is now President of the United States of America.

President Barack Hussein Obama of the United States, the son of an African father, the first time a black man is in the White House- Isn’t that wonderful?

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Our young and beautiful First Lady, Michelle ObamaShe looks like us, and isn’t that good?

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Barack Hussein Obama is Our President now. Because of his dedication and hard work, because of his election, my sons and my daughters can have a face where they could not, in America. Whether you believe it or not, it is difficult to be a black person in America.

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Today has opened up the door a bit wider. Thank God for Barack. Thank God for all the good Americans who disregarded race and fought to make this day possible. Thank God for a better tomorrow for us immigrants of African descent.

I have written my own poem to celebrate President Obama’s African heritage and connection to us African immigrants who also worked day and night to help him get elected because we love him and we love America. This poem was written the night of his election as the 44th US President.

The People Walking In Darkness: A Song for Barack Obama
by Patricia Jabbeh Wesley

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.
Now, put the music on, I say, put the music on, and let

drums sound in the hill country and in the dessert country,
on the dry road and the muddy road. Let the dancing girls

come out tapping their feet lightly to Wayee and to Sumu,
and let the young men, beating their drums sing no longer

with mournful cries. Let the young men in the village
square hold on to their young girls as the town crier rings

out the Klan-Klan-teh with the pounding of drums.
Obama has prevailed over his foes. The lion has sprinted

ahead of his pursuers, so let trumpeters and the men,
blowing their horns come sweating with music, oh Africa—

Let the earth keep silent, I say, and may our elders take up
the freedom only tears can bring. The day has broken

over the fields, my people, the day has broken over the fields,
and all our children, wandering in the forest have found

their footing once more. On the road, a farmer stands no longer
in mid-road. Come, and let us hold up the fire so the lightning

can pass, so our children can pass, so lovers can come out
of hiding, so daylight can come out upon the hills, so our dead

mothers and our dead fathers who lost their footing at the hands
of slavery shake lose grave dirt in their unmarked graves.

Obama, the son of woman, the one son we were going to bring
forth has become ours. Bring out the kola nuts and the spiced

pepper. Let the libation grace these parched surfaces where
the earth has bled. Let young women let loose their hair.

Let the earth be still- the souls of our ancestors are passing.
Let the earth be still- the souls of our ancestors are passing.

The child that was left behind has cleared the path so our
feet can find new footing, so our wailing can end.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.

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The election and now the inauguration of Barack Obama, a son of an African father and a white American mother, the realization of the dream of millions of African Americans who have fought for this dream to come true- this is a moment in history. For me, this is a solemn day of both a celebration of how far we, black people have come, how far people of color all over the world have come, and how far America as a home of immigrants, a home for freedom and peace and equality has come. This has been a moment to live to cherish. I have not ceased to tear up just to be alive here. To know that my grandsons some day will no longer be likened only to Michael Jordon or Magic Johnson, that when someone looks at a black boy, he will no longer be examined through the eyes of low expecations, expecting all little black boys to end up in prison, and that such an individual will have to think before they speak about how much a black boy can accomplish.

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THE WAR IN GAZA: Hold Up a Candle for Peace, Will You? Pray for the End of Fighting Between Isreal and the Palestinians- Civilians Are Dying on All Sides

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STOP THE WAR, PLEASE:

Look at the images and hold up a candle to end the war in the Middle East.

W. H. Auden is one of my favorite poets, perhaps, one of my own influences. This poem below reflects how I feel the world should react to such carnage that war, and particularly, the war in Gaza is causing.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

———-W. H. Auden


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

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Civilians die when there is war. Children and old people, no matter whether they believe in the fighting or not are indiscriminately killed by the fighters on all sides. We all pause even as we enter the new  year and wish everyone well, for the end of the fighting in the Middle East. All peace loving people around the world should stop all the arguments and seek to bring back peace to the people of Israel and Gaza.These pages are to commemorate all those who have already been killed on all sides, and to pray for those still alive, for the leaders on all sides to begin talking and the end of war. War is horrible.

Isreali Poet, Yehuda Amichai, who lived from 1924-2000 could not have written more about today.

Memorial Day for the War Dead
——-by Yehuda Amichai

Memorial day for the war dead.  Add now
the grief of all your losses to their grief,
even of a woman that has left you.  Mix
sorrow with sorrow, like time-saving history,
which stacks holiday and sacrifice and mourning
on one day for easy, convenient memory.

Oh, sweet world soaked, like bread,
in sweet milk for the terrible toothless God.
“Behind all this some great happiness is hiding.”
No use to weep inside and to scream outside.
Behind all this perhaps some great happiness is hiding.

Memorial day.  Bitter salt is dressed up
as a little girl with flowers.
The streets are cordoned off with ropes,
for the marching together of the living and the dead.
Children with a grief not their own march slowly,
like stepping over broken glass.

The flautist’s mouth will stay like that for many days.
A dead soldier swims above little heads
with the swimming movements of the dead,
with the ancient error the dead have
about the place of the living water.

A flag loses contact with reality and flies off.
A shopwindow is decorated with
dresses of beautiful women, in blue and white.
And everything in three languages:
Hebrew, Arabic, and Death.

A great and royal animal is dying
all through the night under the jasmine
tree with a constant stare at the world.

A man whose son died in the war walks in the street
like a woman with a dead embryo in her womb.
“Behind all this some great happiness is hiding.”

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A pall of smoke rises after an explosion from an Israeli missile strike on the Hamas controlled Islamic University in Gaza City on Monday (AP photo by Hatem Moussa)

Emily Dickinson, one of my favorite poets wrote about everything there was under the sun. Her poems are as timeless as this one.

I Measure every Grief I meet (561)
————by Emily Dickinson

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes –
I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long –
Or did it just begin –
I could not tell the Date of Mine –
It feels so old a pain –

I wonder if it hurts to live –
And if They have to try –
And whether – could They choose between –
It would not be – to die –

I note that Some – gone patient long –
At length, renew their smile –
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil –

I wonder if when Years have piled –
Some Thousands – on the Harm –
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve –
Enlightened to a larger Pain –
In Contrast with the Love –

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I always come from the perspective of someone whose very life depended on whether those on all sides would just sit and talk to one another. You sit there and watch the bombs fall, watch children die, watch executions, and wonder, where is the world as all of this is happening. You wonder how anyone can get up and go to work, how anyone can cook a meal, how anyone can put on nice clothes wherever in the world they are while other human beings like you are dying.
The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less
—-by Gerard Manley Hopkins

The times are nightfall, look, their light grows less;
The times are winter, watch, a world undone:
They waste, they wither worse; they as they run
Or bring more or more blazon man’s distress.
And I not help. Nor word now of success:
All is from wreck, here, there, to rescue one—
Work which to see scarce so much as begun
Makes welcome death, does dear forgetfulness.

Or what is else? There is your world within.
There rid the dragons, root out there the sin.
Your will is law in that small commonweal…

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SAY A PRAYER, WILL YOU? END THE WAR NOW!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2009- A New Year Prayer for All My Wonderful Readers/Viewers-

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Happy New Year From Me to You
————————–Patricia Jabbeh Wesley

Happy New Year, I say, Happy New Year.
Let your days ahead be sprinkled with laughter
and with laughter,  peace.
May all you touch spring forth with freshness.
Find time to giggle and dance and jump
and watch the setting of the sun.
When you wake up, wonder out loud
about the sun’s rays, about the darkening
of the morning, about the fog over the hills,
about your babies down the hall,
about the neighbor and her dog. Wonder
at the stars, wonder and wonder why
you are so blessed and why is it you are
among those of the earth who have
more than their allotted air for breathing.
Wonder why the cat meows and why
the dog wags its tail.
Wonder and wonder why dew falls
at night and about the squirrel’s fleeting stare.
Make laughter come alive in your home.
And when you touch someone, let that touch
be real, and I mean, real, my sister.
Walk gently on soft ground, and when
you walk on a bare rock, step hard, this
life is precious. May your year follow only
through a clear path, and please, when you walk
Let it be with God, my love, let it be with God.

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My Iyeeh used to say to me, “May you always walk in the light and all those who come upon you love you. May you know peace, my child, and may your days be filled with laughter. Let no darkness come upon you when you walk. Let the days ahead dance before you, and may you never know tears. Remember who you are no matter what, may God bring you so much blessing, you are forced to share it.”

Hope is the thing with feathers (254)   by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

From the inspired poem ‘ If ‘ – by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream and not make dreams your master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools

good times
by Lucille Clifton

my daddy has paid the rent
and the insurance man is gone
and the lights is back on
and my uncle brud has hit
for one dollar straight
and they is good times
good times
good times

my mama has made bread
and grampaw has come
and everybody is drunk
and dancing in the kitchen
and singing in the kitchen
of these is good times
good times
good times

oh children think about the
good times

Share Louis Armstrong’s “What A Wonderful World,” Please