Why Vote
A Hometown Poem
A sunny Tuesday. Clear sky. Mid-70s. I walk the five blocks to the community center, driver's license in my pocket, ID for the polls. This is my hometown. I returned after many years away. So much has changed. And so much hasn't. I cut through the parking lot of the old apartment complex. A man sits on a lawn chair on his balcony, big German Shepard by his side. I don’t know him but he waves and I wave back. The dog barks, but in a friendly sort of way. “Beautiful day,” he says. “Sure is.” I pass a teenager weed-whacking along Highway 69. A guy in a gray T-shirt rides a mower near the Methodist church. The smell of fresh-cut grass hangs in the air. Neighbors who I know vote on different sides stand outside the community center, chatting cordially, laughing about something. The American flag blows gently in the breeze. Inside, I spot a high school friend checking IDs. She waves. I hand my license to the woman gesturing to me. She hands me a folder and directs me to a polling station. I mark my choices. I feed my ballot into the box. Done. My high school friend and I catch up for a few minutes. How's the family? We should have a ladies' night. Done deal, I say. On the walk home, I pass a little girl on rollerblades, wobbling slightly as she holds a cellphone up to her helmet, smiling at whoever is on the other end. I cross through the parking lot by the nail salon and flower shop. A teenage girl in cutoff shorts climbs into a beat-up car with a back windshield that reads: Go Bombers. Win State. She waves out the window to another girl heading into the post office. "Hey! Way to go!" They both cheer about something, fists in the air. I have no idea what. The sky is still clear. Puffy clouds drift overhead. Another guy is mowing his lawn. And I realize this is what I voted for. Not a candidate. Not a party. Not even certainty that my choices will prevail. I voted for the privilege of having choices at all. For little girls on rollerblades and teenagers making plans. For neighbors who stop to chat. For ordinary Tuesdays. For the quiet miracle of a community going about its business. For the right to disagree, to participate and to belong. For a place where a stranger still waves from a balcony. This is what I voted for.
“BEST SELLER” POETRY BOOK ALERT! My new poetry collection, You Were Never Lost: Poems from the Tallgrass Prairie, was recently released and is now officially a best seller in the “Death/Grief/Loss” poetry category. That’s a wonderful surprise!
Thank you to all who came to my launch event in May, who have purchased the book or shared stories of friendship, grief, loss, walking through nature, or your love of the prairie. It is deeply gratifying to hear that the poems are resonating with you.
WHERE TO GET THE BOOK: The book is available locally through Beaverdale Booksand through major online booksellers, including Amazon and Goodreads.
REVIEWS REQUESTED! And if you do read it, one of the kindest things you can do for an independent author is leave a short review on Amazon or Goodreads. To leave a review, simply go to the book’s page on Amazon or Goodreads, click on “Write a Review” or “Rate and Review,” and share a few sentences about what resonated with you. It does not need to be long or formal. Even a few sentences helps other readers discover the book.
Zing. Right to the heart. Beautifully done.
This sounds much like our little town. My days of strong activism have been limited by health issues. But voting remains a potent instrument to effect change! Thank you Suzanna.